


I Got This Money Baby (I Wanna Spend It on You)

by fruitwithteeth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (no daddy kink), M/M, Sugar Daddy AU, lawyer keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8204776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitwithteeth/pseuds/fruitwithteeth
Summary: Keith showed up at the firm’s Christmas party in his nicest suit because he was going to do this right.





	1. I kinda like you (really wanna dress you up)

**Author's Note:**

> http://5i2.tumblr.com/post/149358865341/lmao-we-were-talking-about-sugar-daddy-au-on  
> http://5i2.tumblr.com/post/150428655056/sugar-daddy-au-again  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxrlGE52eQw
> 
> yeah

Keith showed up at the firm’s Christmas party in his nicest suit because he was going to do this right. Matt Holt was invited, and he was a big client and a friend of Shiro’s. Keith wanted Matt’s approval in some way, and so far all the times they had met had been lacklustre. Keith sometimes felt like he did relationships wrong.

At the bar there was a tall, lanky guy. Warm brown skin, smarmy grin, short, ruffled hair. He was holding a drink in his hand, winking at people who passed by. Keith cocked his head. He didn’t know who this man was. He had to know who everyone at this party was. He approached the bar, feeling almost like it was a magnetized pull doing the work.

“Hello,” he said.

The man threw him a careless grin. He whistled. “Woah, big guy, huh?”

Keith blinked back at him, feeling clueless.

“Nice suit, nice watch.” He nodded his head. Keith noticed he had blue eyes, striking against his skin. “Well, law school really worked out for you, huh? You know, if I’d really wanted to, I could have gone to law school too. Not like it’s hard. But me,” he put a hand to his chest, “I chose the path of higher _higher_ education. Something pure.”

“Who are you?” Keith asked.

The man choked on air. Keith waited.

“I’m Lance!” he nearly shouted. “I, uh, I’m part of Matt’s posse? I know _you’re_ Keith Kogane, how can you not know who’s on your guest list?”

Keith frowned. “It’s not my guest list. It’s Shiro’s guest list.”

Lance flapped his mouth open and closed. “Rude!” he said. “You’re partner aren’t you? It’s your responsibility too.”

“Well,” Keith said, feeling very reasonable, “I’m finding out now, aren’t I?”

Lance continued to look offended.

“What do you do?” Keith prompted. “You mentioned the, uh, purity of higher higher education?”

Lance looked a little flustered. Maybe hearing his bullshit spewed back at him embarrassed him. Keith hoped so.

“Yeah? I did? I did do that. I’m a grad student at the university, astrophysics.” He looked away, to the side, giving Keith a nice view of his profile. Lance nodded upwards, his neck stretching out, to indicate a direction. “There’s Pidge and Hunk, I work with them.” He turned back. “Do you know them?”

“Of course,” Keith said carelessly. “They help out at Mr. Holt’s offices.”

“So do I!”

Keith smiled. Lance was fun like this. “I’m sure I’ll see you next time I stop by, then, won’t I? Excuse me.” He took a step away from the bar, in Pidge and Hunk’s direction. Under his collar, his neck felt hot. “I should go talk to them.”

Lance gave him a sneer.

*

Keith couldn't leave until the party was over. In past years he would have slipped out a little early and handled Shiro's quiet disappointment in some way. But the words, “You're partner, aren't you?” kept echoing in his head. It was true. He had made partner this year, and it would be expected of him. He did not appreciate the admonishment coming in Lance’s voice. Lance, who he'd met only hours earlier. Lance, who he already had pinned down, even more certainly after some more mingling: show-off, braggart, loved attention.

Lance, who, now that the party was over, was staring in stupefaction at a slip of paper in his hand and blocking Keith’s way on the street.

Keith cleared his throat.

Lance whirled around. He narrowed his eyes and pointed at Keith. “You!”

It was cold enough that Keith could see his breath in the air. “Me,” Keith said. “What are you doing?”

Lance brandished the paper. “I got a parking ticket! And on Christmas Eve--”

“It’s not Christmas Eve. No one would hold an office Christmas party on Christmas Eve.”

“-- on fake Christmas Eve! People have no heart!”

Lance stomped his feet. Keith found this childish until he noticed Lance was also rubbing his arms. He must have been trying to warm up. Keith looked at Lance’s car. It was blue. Nothing special.

“Hey Mr. 401k plan, don’t judge my baby.”

Keith did actually have a 401k plan, at Shiro’s insistence. It was annoying not being able to talk back at Lance. Lance made him feel childish.

“How much is it?” Keith asked. Lance also made him nosy.

“A hundred bucks.” Lance tucked the ticket into his jacket pocket and started fishing around for something. His head was bent down. He was not looking at Keith. He was mumbling, “Like I have a hundred bucks just lying around for shits and giggles. What the fuck, man. I can’t ask my parents for cash again. Or my sisters. Or my brother. Fuck my luck.”

“I’ll cover it,” Keith said, thinking of his salary.

Lance stopped fishing around in his pocket. He stopped moving completely. It made Keith realize how much Lance usually moved. All evening long, he had been noticing Lance out of the corner of his eye. It must have been because of all that movement. This reassured Keith. Keith had not been being (too) weird.

Lance finally looked up. His eyebrows were drawn together, his mouth was wide open. Keith could see the inside edge of his bottom lip. “What?”

“I’ll cover your parking ticket,” Keith said. He held out his hand. “Here, let me look at it.”

“Um, no thank you! I’m a big boy! I think I can handle my own problems, thanks.” Keith’s hand was still hovering between them. Lance was staring at it. He made a shooing motion. “Avast!”

Keith pulled his hand back, sighing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, is _not_ paying for my parking ticket a big fucking burden for you?”

“Whatever,” Keith said. “I don’t care. Let me by.” He walked past Lance, and kept walking until he was by his own, far nicer, car. He didn’t need to help Lance, or anything. He was trying to be nice, that was all. And Lance didn’t want his help, and that was fine.

“Keith! Mr. Kogane! Keith Kogane!”

Keith turned at the sound. It was Lance, running up the sidewalk toward him. It was very stupid of him to be running when there was so much ice around, but Lance made it safely.

“Yes?”

Lance was a winded. The puffs of breath he let out into the cold air were little but came one after another, like rounds off a machine gun. He straightened up and gave a hangdog expression. “I was, uh, rude and, um, stupid.”

“Huh,” Keith said. “Do you say that often?”

Lance scowled at him. “If you would still like to pay for my parking ticket, I would be very grateful.” He looked as though he was swallowing something bitter.

“What changed your mind?” Keith asked.

“None of your business,” Lance snapped.

Keith grinned and pulled out his wallet. “Fair enough. A hundred, right?” He handed it over, in cash.

“Unbelievable,” Lance muttered. “Thanks, Keith.”

“Any time,” Keith said, without thinking.

Lance looked at him and laughed, an awkward, tinkling laugh. Keith did not really understand why he was laughing. Keith did not really understand why he had done what he had just done, either. He figured it didn't matter. He would go home and that would be the end of his day.

*

Keith had already worn his nicest suit to the Christmas party, so he had to go buy a new and equally nice suit for the New Year's party Matt Holt was holding at his offices.

When he arrived, he felt very stupid for not thinking Lance would be there. But there Lance was, in the middle of a mid-sized crowd, telling a story that apparently required being loud and annoying. It was not surprising that Keith’s eyes were drawn to him first. Anyone would be staring at that commotion.

“Did you stop by the coat check?”

It was Shiro. Keith managed not to jump in surprise at the question. It would have been embarrassing if he had reacted like that. It was already embarrassing that Shiro had caught him staring at Lance.

“Yes,” Keith said. He turned around so Lance wouldn’t be in his line of sight.

Shiro gave him an odd look. “You alright?”

“Yes,” Keith replied. He winced at how terse he sounded.

“Oh?” Shiro was looking over Keith’s shoulder.

Keith swallowed. He could feel a sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. This was a nice shirt. He tugged at his collar.

“Lance, right? You should go talk to him,” Shiro said.

“What,” Keith croaked out. “Who’s Lance.”

Shiro gave him a smile. It looked patient, but Keith knew better. It was sneaky. “He does some consulting work for Matt, right? Along with Pidge and Hunk? We’re going to be going over some patents for Matt these coming months, so we’ll be working closely with all three of them. You should introduce yourself.”

“I think I see Allura,” Keith said.

Shiro froze.

Keith smiled and waved. “She’s waving at you.”

“This is not over, Keith,” Shiro said, before straightening his jacket. “Is my tie okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith said. “You look good.”

Shiro turned and waved at Allura before heading her way.

Keith dreaded the mingling he would have to go through. At the Christmas party it had been part of his job, so that helped him compartmentalize it. But most of the crowd here were scientists and marketing people, and Keith was present as a guest. He had no goal.

Keith could hear the laughter coming from the group behind him. It was loud. He made himself not turn around.

“Hey, Keith! How are you?”

It was Hunk. For the second time that evening, Keith was relieved he did not jump in surprise.

“Hunk,” he said. “Yes. Hello. I am fine.”

“Cool,” Hunk said. He smiled wide. “You guys are coming by next week to work on the patents, right?”

Hunk’s words were a liferaft. Keith could talk about this without worrying. “Yes,” he said, and delved into the finer points of intellectual property law.

Pidge eventually joined them, so the conversation turned to what they'd been working on for the Holt offices. And with Hunk and Pidge both talking with Keith, it wasn't long before Lance came their way.

“Well, who do we have here?” Lance had an arm around Hunk's and Pidge's shoulders each. It looked comical, with the height difference. “Hello, Mr. Kogane, how are you doing?”

Pidge shrugged Lance off. “I don't want to smell your armpit.”

“Your loss!” Lance said cheerfully. Pidge gave a disgusted look. Keith tried very hard to not think about Lance’s armpits.

“We were talking about the statistical modeling app that Pidge is working on,” Hunk said. 

Lance gave a sharkish grin. “And did they say how I helped?”

“You picked out the color scheme,” Pidge said, rolling their eyes. 

Keith laughed at this. When he stopped laughing he saw Lance giving him a strange look. He was probably offended.

“I've done other things,” Lance said. “I'm a valuable member of the team.”

“You are!” Hunk said, enthusiastically.

Pidge sighed. “I don't have time for this crisis, I'm getting food.”

Pidge left. Hunk made his excuses too and followed them. Keith and Lance were left looking at each other.

Lance was wearing the same suit he'd worn to the Christmas party. It was a nice gray color, but a cheap material. His hair was neater this time. Lance was being uncharacteristically quiet. Keith had to say something.

“How's your car?” he asked.

Lance gave him a sharp look. The gray of his suit made his eyes look stormy. Keith could feel his pulse in his throat.

“Is that why you were staring at me like that?”

“Like what?” Keith asked before saying, “I wasn’t staring at you.”

Lance leaned in close and lowered his voice. He spoke quickly. “If you want your money back you should just tell me, I’d--” He interrupted himself, leaned back. He brought a hand to his face and dragged it down to his neck. “I’d pay you back. It’s only right.”

“What? For the parking ticket?”

“Yes,” Lance hissed. “What else?”

Keith was surprised. Lance was a confusing person. “That’s not. No. I don’t want you to pay me back.”

“What?” Lance asked.

“What?” Keith asked back.

Lance stared at him. He dropped the hand he’d had on his neck and brought it to his chest. “I’d been planning on paying you back anyway, you know. I can’t owe you money!”

Keith was staring at Lance’s hand on his chest. His fingers were long, and from the way they were spread out he could see the tendons across the back of his hand standing out. The press of his fingertips were wrinkling his shirt a little. Suddenly Keith thought about Lance touching himself, his nipples, with those hands.

“Uh,” Keith said, mortified. His face was on fire. “I have to go. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Dude!” Lance called out as Keith ran away to get a drink.

*

It’s just physical, Keith thought to himself. And it wasn’t even like he was going to act on it. It was just a thing. A physical thing for some guy Keith did not know very well. What did he know about Lance? Pretty much nothing. Show-off, though. Talkative. Clearly friendly, with _other_ people.

Everyone was gathering for the countdown. Keith could see Lance talking and laughing with some girl. Nyma, Keith remembered, from Holt’s marketing department. They’d talked earlier that evening. Now she was laughing at something Lance said, and Lance was puffing his chest out.

“Hey,” Shiro said. “Ready for the new year?”

He was holding two champagne glasses, gesturing to Keith with one of them. Allura was standing next to him, holding her own glass. She was smiling at Keith.

“Hello, Keith,” she said. “We haven’t had the chance to talk much this evening. How are you?”

“Hi, Allura,” Keith said, taking the glass from Shiro. He gave Shiro a sly glance. “I’m well. Have you and Shiro been talking all night?”

Both Allura and Shiro gave awkward laughs.

“We got somewhat wrapped up in our conversation,” Allura said bashfully. “Do you have any New Year’s resolutions, Keith?”

“We’ve got less than minute to the countdown!” Matt called out.

“Oh, uh, no,” Keith said to Allura.

She smiled at him. “Some years are like that.”

“Ten!” everyone cried out.

Shiro gave Allura a smile back. They turned to where Matt was standing, leading the countdown.

“Nine!”

Keith straightened up. He looked around the crowd and his eyes immediately fell to Lance.

“Eight!”

Lance was leaning down toward Nyma, smiling and charming--

“Seven!”

\-- were they going to kiss? Keith wouldn’t be surprised--

“Six!”

\-- Nyma shook her head and laughed--

“Five!”

\-- Lance laughed back, shrugged--

“Four!”

\-- Lance looked up, his eyes--

“Three!”

\-- met Keith’s--

“Two!”

\-- and widened--

“One!" The crowd was screaming. "Happy New Year!” they cheered.

Keith was still staring at Lance, and Lance was staring back. Keith turned away. He took a gulp of his champagne. It bubbled down his throat. His heart was beating fast. He thought about how he would have kissed Lance, if it had been him.

He would fuck Lance, if Lance wanted him to.


	2. I wanna buy you for real

Keith was back to work on Monday. He stopped by his own office first to pick up the documents he needed, then he headed to the Holt offices. Every red light and inconvenience made him feel more impatient. The entire car ride there he kept thinking about seeing Lance. Then he’d tell himself to stop. Then he’d give up. He kept biting his lip and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

At the Holt offices Keith headed straight to the conference room he’d be working in. The only person there was Pidge.

“Hey,” they said without looking up from their laptop.

“Hello,” he said, giving a look around the room. “I’m on time, right? Where’s everyone else?”

Pidge gave him an owlish look. “Everyone else? You mean Lance?”

“I mean Lance and Hunk,” Keith said, eyes narrowed.

Pidge smirked. “Oh well, if you meant Lance and _Hunk_. Hunk comes in on Wednesdays, otherwise he’s at the university.”

“Oh,” Keith said.

Pidge smiled at him.

Keith cleared his throat. “And Lance?”

“Oh, _Lance_ comes in on Fridays.” Their grin slipped into something more professional. “We’re all grad students at the university with teaching roles, so our schedules are messy. I’m here three times a week, but the other two only come once a week. You should spread out your work with that in mind, I guess.” They shrugged. “But the stuff you have to cover with me is no problem, I’m here the most often. You want to get started?”

Keith set his briefcase down on the table and let out a breath. He realized he’d been holding tension in his shoulders and back. It was a disappointment that Lance wouldn’t be there, but better for his work life. Temporarily. Everything he’d been looking forward to and everything he’d been dreading were just getting pushed to later in the week.

“Yeah,” he said “Let’s get started.”

*

On Wednesday Keith brought coffee because Pidge had kept whining about it.

“A savior!” Hunk cried when he saw the takeaway cups. He lifted the lid and took a deep breath. “Smells so good.”

Pidge looked a lot more tired than they had on Monday. They took a cup and chugged it.

“Don’t mind Pidge,” Hunk said. “Completely non-verbal on Wednesdays. They teach an evening lab on Tuesdays and then they think, ‘Hey, I'm invincible, I'll just stay up until four in the morning to do my other work,’ and then they regret it.”

Pidge gave him the middle finger.

“And then they repeat the cycle the next week,” Hunk concluded. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way.”

“Of course,” Keith said absently. “Does, um, Lance like coffee?”

Pidge snorted but said nothing.

“Yeah,” Hunk said, giving a friendly smile. “Gonna bring him some coffee on Friday too? Good idea.”

Keith was suspicious. “Good idea?”

“Er, because it would only be fair, right?” Hunk looked away to his laptop and gave a laugh. “We have so much to do today! Better get cracking!”

Keith gave him and Pidge a suspicious look. Hunk didn’t seem to notice but Pidge blinked innocently at him. Too innocently.

Whatever. If it was a good idea, then he’d do it.

*

By Friday Keith was a bundle of nerves. He bought the same coffee he’d bought on Wednesday but kept dithering over stupid details. Should he have gotten larger sizes? Did he take enough sugar packets? Cream packets? Lance seemed the type to load his coffee with so much sugar and cream until he wouldn’t be able taste anything else. Keith should have gotten more. He looked down at the paper cup holder in his hands. The little crevices were already stuffed. But he had pockets on his coat. Should have thought of that earlier.

Pidge was already at the conference room when Keith came in. Lance was not. Keith handed Pidge their coffee and took small sips of his own. He tapped his pen. He rearranged his papers. Pidge gave him an annoyed look.

Keith opened his mouth to say something but Lance came into the room right then. Keith’s heartbeat spiked. His mouth hung open.

“Hey Pidge!” Lance said cheerfully. He ducked his head when he said, “Hi, Keith.”

Keith snapped his mouth shut. “Hello,” he said. 

He pushed the third cup of coffee across the table. Lance didn’t notice. He was too focused on rooting through his backpack. Keith cleared his throat.

Lance looked up.

“Coffee,” Keith said. He pointed at the cup. He pushed a bunch of the sugar and cream packets across the table. “For you.”

“Oh hey, thanks!” Lance said, smiling. He took the coffee and drank it, black.

Pidge took three of the sugar packets. They gave Keith a smug look. Keith didn’t mind. Lance was drinking the coffee he’d bought.

“You look terrible, Lance,” Pidge said. 

Keith disagreed, silently. It would probably be weird to disagree out loud.

“Ugh, tell me about it,” Lance said, once again interrupted from going through his backpack. “I'm back to using drugstore moisturizer now and it's just not as good!”

Pidge raised their eyebrows. “I mean you look like you haven't slept.”

Lance ignored them. “You can't beat the fancy shit. Moment I get my contract payment I'm heading to the department store. Clinique, man. Can’t go wrong.” He raised a single finger. “ _Can_ go broke.”

“What brand did you say?” Keith asked.

Lance nearly preened. “See, Pidge, some people care about skin routine.” Pidge grunted in response. “Clinique, it’s what I like to use when I can get it. Otherwise I’m using like, Neutrogena or whatever. It’s fine, but I can tell.” He shook his head. “I can tell.”

“How do you spell that?”

Lance looked up from his backpack. He pulled his laptop out and set it on the table. He seemed to be doing everything a little slowly, on purpose. “Uh, Clinique? It’s like clinic. With a ‘q-u-e’ at the end.” He gave Keith a curious look. “I was joking before, you know, I didn’t think you were that interested. But it’s good! Yeah, look into it.”

Keith was not actually interested. At least, not for the reason Lance thought.

“Sure,” Keith said. He ignored Pidge’s dead eyes.

Lance was finally done arranging his things. He sat down, took another sip of coffee. “This is good, huh,” he said.

Keith felt warm.

*

Working with Lance was weird, and not just because Keith wanted him. Lance cracked a lot of jokes but wouldn't meet Keith’s eye sometimes. Or he’d smile brightly at Keith and then frown within a few seconds. Between Keith and Pidge, Lance was definitely focusing his attention on Pidge.

Not that Keith let this distract him from his work.

Still, had Keith done something wrong? He wasn't sure. Maybe it was the staring at the New Year’s party that was still on Lance’s mind. Keith was still doing a bit of staring. He knew it could be unnerving. He kept reminding himself he was supposed to be professional.

When lunch rolled around, Pidge made to leave immediately. “Getting lunch with Matt today, don’t get into any trouble,” they said. “See you at one!”

“Yup,” Lance said as they left. “Well,” he said to Keith. He stood up and stretched. Keith made sure to look away so as to not embarrass himself. “Guess I’m gonna head out for lunch, then.”

“I’ll come with you.” Keith stood up quickly. He hadn’t brought a lunch and had been planning on getting one at the building cafeteria. He’d be willing to change his plan, though.

“Oka-ay,” Lance said, extending the vowels of the word. He had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, and rocked on his feet as he spoke. He looked awkward.

“Unless you don’t--”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Lance ducked his head. He gave a laugh. “It’s just, I’m going to the cafeteria, so it’s not anything fancy. I’m not sure what you usually get, at your law offices…”

Keith beamed. “That’s where I was going to go.”

“Great,” Lance said. His smile still looked a little stiff, but he opened the door to the hallway for Keith.

*

“I keep telling myself I should pack a lunch,” Lance said while looking at the options in the refrigerated display, “but I’m too lazy and I forget. Still, the sandwiches here are good.”

“Oh?” Keith said. “Yeah, I usually end up buying my meals.”

“ _All_ of them?” Lance was leaned over at the waist, hands still in his pockets, but he twisted his head to the side to look up at Keith. The front of his shirt gaped a bit, the angle of his body put his collarbones in relief.

“Pretty much,” Keith said. 

“Damn,” Lance whistled. He straightened up and picked out his sandwich. “That’s the life, I guess.”

Keith had already chosen what he wanted to get and was ahead of Lance in the line. He held his hand out to Lance. “Hey, it’s on me.”

Lance blinked at him, but didn’t give his sandwich. “What?”

“I’ll cover your lunch,” Keith said. “No problem.”

“Look, you already got us all coffee,” Lance said. He scratched his forehead, looked to the side.

“It would make me happy.”

“Oh, well if it makes him _happy_ ,” Lance said sarcastically.

Keith reached out for Lance’s hand, but stopped short of touching him. Would that be crossing a line?

Lance looked down and saw Keith’s hand hovering an inch from his. For a moment, it felt like the world was at a standstill. Then, wordlessly, Lance handed his sandwich over. When Keith looked up, he saw Lance chewing his lip, face flushed. Keith grinned at him. Lance whipped around, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ll get us a table,” he mumbled.

*

Keith somehow made it to the next Friday. He arrived at the offices with the usual coffee for everyone in hand, and the moisturizer that Lance liked burning a hole in his briefcase.

Lance had told him the name of the brand but had not specified which moisturizer. Keith had spent a good hour at the department store talking to the clerks over the choices. He had eventually settled on the most expensive face cream. As he had paid at the counter he had felt good. He had wanted to see what Lance would look like when he saw the present. He had wanted to make Lance happy.

Now he was feeling anxious. What if Lance hated it? Or, like, threw it at his face? It was a pretty heavy bottle.

Keith pushed the door open to the conference room to find Lance already there, complaining to Pidge.

“And _then_ he said, I need your thesis abstract by Saturday! I’m going to be up all night working on it, oh god.” He had his hands buried in his hair, his long body leaning back in distress like a strung bow. Everything Lance did, he did with his entire body.

Pidge waved at Keith. “You know Coran’s making the best choices for you, right? He knows you’re putting stuff off, so he’s making sure you get them done, Lance.”

Lance wailed dramatically.

Keith set the coffee down on the table. He hadn’t wanted to give Lance the present while Pidge was there anyway, because Pidge would definitely make fun of him and this was a private matter. He pushed the cups of coffee out toward Pidge and Lance.

Lance perked up immediately. “Hey, thanks,” he said. He took a sip and dove back into his rant. “And on my drive here I kept hearing these weird sounds, I’m worried it’s the engine again.” He sighed and slumped into his chair.

“Your car?” Keith asked. He felt a strange fondness for Lance’s car.

Lance sniffed. “Not ‘my car,’ her name is Peggy.”

“What? Her name is not Peggy,” Pidge said.

“It’s Peggy,” Lance said.

“Uh, is it Peggy? Um, with the engine problem?” Keith asked.

“Christ,” Pidge said, rubbing their temple.

“ _Yes_ ,” Lance said. “Peggy has been having engine troubles since I got her, but last time I went to the mechanic they said the new engine would last, like, years!”

“That’s because you go to a shitty mechanic who rips you off,” Pidge said. “ _Peggy_ needs care, Lance.”

“My baby,” Lance said.

Keith felt a little lost in the conversation. But Lance was smiling, so he was okay with that.

*

 

Pidge seemed to have a weekly lunch date with Matt on Fridays, so they left Keith and Lance to their own devices again. Keith could give Lance the present now, but he felt anxious. Instead he left it in his briefcase and followed Lance to the cafeteria again. Lance didn’t even bother lining up after Keith waved him off. Keith smiled to himself as he paid for both their meals. He wanted to get used to this. He wanted Lance to get used to this.

At their table Keith asked something he’d been wondering about since that morning.

“Is your advisor Prof. Coran? Pidge mentioned that name, and I was wondering if it’s the same Coran I know.”

Lance looked up from his sandwich, his cheeks bulging out. He was not an attractive eater. Somehow this did not put Keith off. “Orange mustache? New Zealand accent?” At Keith’s nod, Lance chewed thoughtfully. “How do you know him?”

“He’s Allura’s godfather, right?”

Lance’s eyes went bright instantaneously. “Ah, the beautiful Allura!”

Keith felt a twinge of annoyance. “She’s probably going to start dating Shiro soon,” he said shortly.

Lance got even more starry-eyed. “Oh, the handsome Shiro!”

Keith regretted mentioning Shiro. “You can’t have both of them, Lance.”

“What!” Lance laughed. “Imagine that, huh.”

Keith very much did not want to imagine that, for multiple reasons.

“They looked good at the New Year’s party,” Lance said. “Like, damn, right?”

At the mention of the party, Keith remembered the look he and Lance had shared at the end of the countdown. Something twisted in his stomach. He froze. Judging from Lance’s awkward glance away from Keith, Lance noticed. There looked to be a blush in Lance’s cheeks. Keith wondered what he was thinking about. Was he thinking the same thing?

“You didn’t get a kiss,” Keith said. He regretted it immediately.

Lance’s eyes were wide and his face was even redder. “You say the weirdest shit, man,” he croaked. He swallowed visibly and cleared his throat. Keith could see his jaw clench. “I deserved one, though,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Keith didn’t know what to say. It didn’t feel like it was appropriate to say, “Yes, you did, and I would have done it. I would still do it.” So he said nothing.

Lance’s head was angled downwards, but he looked up through his lashes at Keith and asked, “Didn’t I?” His sandwich was finished and he put the wrapper down onto his tray. “Don’t I deserve a New Year’s kiss?”

“Uh,” Keith said. He was short circuiting. He wasn’t expecting this. He was very aware of the heartbeat in his ears, of how his foot was touching Lance's under the table, of how close Lance was. 

He gave Lance a blank look.

Lance gave a sardonic grin. He shook his head. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m going to head back up, get started on that abstract for Coran while we’re still on break.”

“Okay,” Keith said. Lance left with his tray. Keith felt-- no, he knew-- he’d missed something important.

*

Keith did not end up giving Lance the moisturizer that day, but he kept it in his briefcase. He brought it with him every time he went to the Holt offices. Each time he opened up his bag, it would sit there accusingly. He was determined to give it to Lance on the upcoming Friday.

It was snowing lightly when Keith headed out. By the time he got to the offices the snow was coming down thick and heavy. There was no one else in the conference room. This was the first time he’d made it to their meetings before Pidge.

Ten minutes later Pidge walked in.

“Sorry I’m late,” Pidge said. “Snow’s really messing with the roads, but I get a ride with Matt, thankfully.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith said. “Have a coffee, it should still be warm.”

Pidge took it and gave a salute with it. They sighed and got their laptop out as they spoke. “Lance is definitely going to be late. His car broke down last night, and the buses are all backed up, he texted me. We should get started without him.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Keith said. He'd imagined how this day would go all week. It had not started like this. The change the weather brought was mixing him up.

He and Pidge worked for half an hour before Lance made it to the office. The coffee was definitely cold by then.

“Hey everyone! You guys started without me, right?” he asked as he walked in. His hair was plastered to his forehead from the melting snow and he was red-cheeked and bright-eyed from the cold. He shivered with exaggeration. “It’s cold out!”

Keith’s heartbeat stuttered alarmingly. He wanted to open up Lance’s jacket and tuck himself in there, warm him up. Instead he grunted a greeting and focused his attention on his laptop.

“Hey Lance,” Pidge said. “Yeah, we got started. Good timing, we need you to look at this.”

Lance moved over next to Pidge. He started taking off his jacket while reading over Pidge’s shoulder. Keith watched out of the corner of his eye. Lance was wearing a blue dress shirt. It looked very good on him. He tugged at his collar to set it straight. Keith thought he might die.

Keith turned away when Lance looked up from Pidge’s laptop. He was pretty sure he’d been caught staring again. There was an odd silence in the air.

“We-ell,” Lance said, “I’m sure I can dig up the references I used for that.”

Keith breathed a sigh of relief as Lance and Pidge continued to discuss work.

*

At lunch Lance gave an awkward laugh and a shrug.

“I remembered to bring a lunch today,” he said. It sounded almost apologetic.

“Uh, good job,” Keith said. He winced at his own wording. Good job?

“Gee, thanks,” Lance said. “Don’t let me keep you. I’ve got some work to do for Coran, so I’ll be here during the break.”

“Right,” Keith said. “Of course. I’ll, uh, see you later.”

Keith went to the cafeteria on his own. He felt distinctly lonely. He had been looking forward to lunch with Lance. They had nice conversations, Lance made him laugh, and Keith enjoyed being able to look at him.

He felt hopeless. He remembered the present he still hadn’t given Lance. It suddenly felt like a strange thing to do. But he’d bought it and he wanted to give it to Lance, so he would.

*

Usually at the end of the work day everyone said their goodbyes and headed out in different directions for their rides or cars. But today Lance didn’t have his car so he headed out of the building. Keith ran after him.

“Lance!” he called out. They were outside and the cold air was biting at his face. It burned his lungs. “Lance!”

Lance turned around. He was all bundled up. In the low light of the evening Keith could not make out his expression.

“Do you want a ride?” Keith asked. “It’s the least I can do.”

“The least you can do?” Lance shook his head, confused. “For what?”

“For your coffee this morning. It was cold when you came in.”

“You’re a strange guy,” Lance said. “But sure. Beats the bus. Lead the way.”

They went back through the building to the other side to reach the parking lot. Once in the car, Keith pulled out his briefcase.

“I have something for you, by the way,” he said. He brought out the moisturizer. He hadn’t had it wrapped because he’d wanted to pass it off casually. Now he wasn’t sure.

Lance stared at him from across the passenger seat. He brought his hand up and took the bottle from Keith. Their fingers brushed.

“Keith?” Lance was staring at the bottle in his hands. “What is this?”

“Isn’t it the moisturizer you like?” Keith asked. “I was, you know, passing by and I saw it…”

Lance was silent for a while. Keith was growing more and more anxious, more and more caught up in the expression on Lance’s face.

“Thanks,” Lance said quietly. “It’s-- it’s exactly the one I like.”

Keith was relieved. He started the car.

“I’m near the university,” Lance said. “So just go there first and I’ll give more directions.”

“Great,” Keith said as he started driving. “So Peggy broke down yesterday?”

“Peggy?” Lance asked, absentmindedly. He was still staring at the bottle in his hands.

“Your car?”

“Oh, right.” Lance looked up, at Keith. “Right. Yeah, broke down last night. I wanted to go to the labs on campus last night but she wouldn’t start. Haven’t had the time to call anyone about it yet, but I’m guessing it’s probably a big problem and it won’t be cheap.” He sighed.

Keith took a glance at him. He looked tired. Keith hadn’t noticed it before but the bags under his eyes were obvious this close up. Something within Keith clenched. He could feel the words bubbling up in him, let them out before thinking them through.

“I’ll cover it for you.”

Keith’s eyes were on the road. All he heard from the passenger seat was Lance shifting in his seat.

“Is that okay?” Keith asked. “I don’t mind.”

Lance scoffed. “ _Is that okay?_ Are you _my_ sugar daddy or Peggy’s sugar daddy?”

Keith almost slammed on the brakes in surprise. “What!” He could feel his eyes bugging out. He had to calm down if he wanted to drive safely.

“Uh,” Lance said. “Forget I said anything!”

Keith gave Lance an incredulous look before focusing back on the road. “How can I forget _that_?”

“I don’t know!” Lance sighed. “You covered my parking ticket and now you want to pay for repairs, so maybe, you know.”

“I don’t know,” Keith said, severely.

“And you keep buying me shit, okay! I mean like, shit as in stuff, not like, bad stuff. Like, okay, maybe the parking ticket was a good samaritan thing, right, it was Christmas Eve--”

“It wasn’t Christmas Eve.”

“-- fake Christmas Eve, and you were feeling the spirit of it. And like, coffee, you were getting everyone coffee. I know cause Hunk told me. And lunch, like, why not, okay, right, but this?” Lance held up the bottle of moisturizer and shook it in Keith’s peripheral vision. “This is crossing a sugar daddy line! I know this costs seventy bucks!”

Keith didn’t have anything to say.

“Turn here,” Lance said. “That’s my apartment building.”

Keith maneuvered the car into a parking spot.

“So I’m a little confused,” Lance said. “I guess. Just. You know.”

Keith still felt speechless and mortified. Was that what he’d been doing?

Lance looked as mortified as Keith felt, at least. “And like, Pidge joked that they wouldn’t mind a sugar daddy like you, because, you know.”

Keith didn’t think he’d ever be able to look Pidge in the eye again. Or Hunk. If Lance was having conversations about this with Pidge, then he was having them with Hunk too. “No, I don’t know,” he said.

“Well, neither do I!”

Keith took a deep breath. “Do you want me to stop?”

Lance squirmed in his seat. Sometime during the ride he’d opened the front of his jacket from the heat. Keith still found the blue of Lance’s shirt to be flattering. It was hard to think when he was feeling so much. His eyes were caught on the way Lance’s collar lay across his neck. The Adam’s apple peeking out. The smooth skin.

“I want to know what you want,” Lance said. “What do you want in exchange?”

“Nothing,” Keith said.

Lance looked skeptical.

“There are things that I want,” Keith said slowly, because it was true. There was a lot he wanted from Lance. “But not in exchange. There’s no. What I want,” Keith knew he was blushing, “is not. Uh.”

Lance cocked his head. The expression on his face cleared to something more open. It seemed like Keith had said something right for once. There was a distinctive shift in the atmosphere of the car.

Lance’s voice was low when he spoke. “What do you want, Keith?”

The question brought a shiver to Keith’s spine. Lance was staring him full in the face. Keith couldn’t meet his eyes. His mouth felt dry. He licked his lips, swallowed, before answering, “I want to fuck you.”


	3. I kinda like you (really wanna feel you up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took many rewrites, so thank you for your patience. Thank you also for all the comments and kudos on the first two chapters! I hope you like this chapter.
> 
> Things are starting to get explicit. If you think I should tag or warn for something, please do tell me.

Lance whimpered. He pressed a hand to his mouth. His eyes were wide.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked. He leaned forward but his seat belt jerked him back.

“I’m fine!” It came out as a squeak. Lance was staring back at Keith, the right side of his face delicately limned by the streetlight. The ethereal quality of it was at odds with the look on his face. Part flustered, part hungry, Keith hoped. Lance was still speaking. “You are a very confident person. Very bold! With such a…”

“Yes?” Keith prompted as Lance lapsed into silence. His heart was drumming in his chest, up in his throat. “You asked me what I wanted. Was I not supposed to say that?”

Lance groaned. “God, why do you sound so hot all the time? Why is your voice-- why is it _like_ that? All like, deep and intense?”

Keith had cut the ignition to the car a while ago. It was starting to get cold. He could feel it in the tip of his nose, each time he took a breath in and let one out. His breathing was getting shallow.

“So is that an okay?” Keith ventured.

“Yeah, yeah it is,” Lance said. His mouth was slightly parted. There was a slice of darkness between his lips. His eyes were trained low on Keith’s face.

Keith took in small breath just as Lance leaned over from the passenger seat to crush his mouth to Keith's.

Keith kissed back immediately. He’d been waiting for this for so long, imagining it in every possible way, that it was impossible to hesitate. Lance pulled away too soon. He licked his lips, and Keith watched the peek of tongue come out, thought about the inside of Lance’s mouth. Keith pushed his body forward, ignoring the cut of the seatbelt across his chest, and Lance understood, moved back in for another kiss.

Keith angled his head, licked into Lance’s mouth, ate up his sounds.

He wished they were elsewhere, somewhere more comfortable. He wanted to pull Lance onto his lap, or push him against a wall, or down onto a bed, and grind up against him. He opened his mouth to catch Lance’s bottom lip between his. He sucked at it, bit. Lance moaned into Keith’s mouth. The angle was awkward, the steering wheel and the gear stick getting in the way. Everything was tight and it made Keith hyper-aware of the moment. So maybe Keith did not mind being in the car too much. Somehow he had a hand on the back of Lance’s neck, and had to keep reminding himself to not grip too hard. He wanted to be gentle, here. He wanted so much.

Lance had his hands on Keith’s coat lapels and tried to pull him forward but the seat belt was still in the way. The jerk of it was a shock to Keith. His hands slid down to Lance’s shoulders. This wasn’t enough. Lance’s mouth was wet and his eyes were dark. Keith wanted more.

Lance swallowed, the bob of his throat obvious, his eyes trained on Keith’s mouth again. “We can go up if you want. Don’t have any roommates.”

Keith undid the buckle of his seat belt. Lance scrambled to zip up his jacket and open his door.

They took the stairs instead of the elevator and didn’t talk the entire way there. Lance kept throwing furtive glances over his shoulder as they went up the stairwell. Keith simply stared back, feeling too wired, too open.

At his door, Lance fumbled his keys. He was still holding the moisturizer in one hand. He gave an awkward laugh, bit his lip. “You’re standing so close,” he said.

Keith hadn’t even noticed, though now he was too aware of it. He didn’t move away. Lance hadn’t asked him to.

“I don’t mind,” Lance whispered. It felt like a secret. He opened the door, dropped his backpack and the moisturizer.

Keith fell in after him and pushed him up against the shut door. He wedged his thigh between Lance’s legs.

This would take the edge off, Keith thought. This would take the edge off and then they could take their time, like he’d thought of before, he could push Lance down against Lance’s bed, or pull Lance onto his lap on the couch, they could take their time. A quick moment here and then they could do it again, properly, eke it out to its full, heavy worth.

Lance’s mouth was open against his, and so, so willing. His hips rose to grind against Keith’s and Keith couldn’t wait any longer, this was going to be quick, that was all, he opened up Lance’s fly and Lance gave a desperate sound at that. Keith approved, his hand on Lance’s cock, which hardened satisfyingly under his grip, so, so hot against his palm, and Lance was reaching for Keith too, Keith could feel the hands on him, god he’d thought about those hands, had watched those hands, and now they were on his dick too, fuck.

Keith buried his head in the crook of Lance’s neck. Somehow Lance’s shirt had come undone, probably thanks to Keith, and Keith was resting his cheek against the bare skin there. It was so smooth. Whatever moisturizers and creams and lotions Lance wanted, Keith would get them for him. Shower him in them. He pressed his mouth against Lance’s collarbone, slid his hand up and down Lance’s cock, his grip as steady as he could manage. He wanted to pump Lance dry. Wring every last drop out. He wanted Lance spoiled.

Lance was muttering something, right into Keith’s skin. Every hitch of his breath, every stutter, Keith could feel through Lance’s chest. Soon, soon, and then they could do this again. He kissed his way up Lance’s throat, whispered in his ear, voice hoarse, “You’re gorgeous.”

Lance came with a whimper, his body slumping against Keith’s as Keith kept pumping him. Lance still had a hand on Keith’s dick, gone slack, but the other hand was scrambling at Keith’s shoulders, and his weight was pressing against Keith. Keith pushed him up against the door for support, kissed him through it until Lance pulled away and moaned, “Too much, too much.”

Keith wiped his hand on Lance’s stomach. He looked at Lance. He really was so-- his eyes were bright in the dark. They hadn’t even turned on the lights in their hurry.

Keith was still hard, of course. He wrapped his hand around his dick, his fingers tangling with Lance’s. Lance blinked at him. He gave a wicked grin and stroked up Keith’s dick.

“You’re gonna help me out?” Lance asked, nodding toward their hands between them.

Keith dropped his head down. It was overwhelming to look at Lance right now. It wasn’t much better looking at what they were doing. He shut his eyes, bit his lip. Why hadn’t he taken his coat off? It was so hot.

He felt something sharp on his ear, teeth, tugging. It was maybe stupid to think this, but it felt like there was a live wire right there that Lance had found, that led right to Keith’s dick. He tried to hold in the embarrassing sounds as he came all over his hand, all over _Lance’s_ hand. God, he was so easy, Keith thought distantly. He was so easy for Lance. Did Lance understand that?

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance was saying, “it’s okay, yeah, keep going.”

Keith realized how hard he was breathing, how fast his heart was beating, in that way he only realized when his body was starting to slow down. He could feel the calm starting to wash over him, muffling the buzz in his veins. His eyelids felt heavy.

“Shit,” Lance whispered. He dropped his head onto Keith’s shoulder.

Keith was still holding onto him. He pulled his hands away, flexed them out. His heartbeat was starting to pick up again, uncomfortably. “What,” he started to say. He had to swallow, clear his throat. “What is it?”

Lance turned his large, sad eyes on Keith. “I still have so much work left to do for Coran.”

Keith frowned. “What?”

“Like, it’s due tomorrow morning,” Lance whispered, horrified. “First thing in the morning!”

“How much work?”

“So much work! Keith! So much work! I haven’t even started dinner yet!”

Keith knew he was gaping at Lance. This was not what he’d been expecting. But in retrospect it should not have been such a surprise.

Lance gave him a weak smile. “I’m not on top of my shit. That’s why they call me last minute Lance.”

Keith stared at him.

“No one actually does that. Okay. Yeah.”

Keith looked away to hide his smile. It was just relief. Lance wasn’t funny.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” Keith said. He turned back. “So, did you…” He gestured between them. Lance hastily pulled his pants closed and started buttoning his shirt. Keith rolled his eyes and did up his pants too. “Did you enjoy this? Would you, you know, again?”

“Um, _yeah_ ,” Lance said. Keith watched Lance doing the buttons near his collar. “Yes, yeah, of course. Not tonight, um, but.”

“Cool,” Keith said.

Lance snickered.

“So, do you want me to cover for Peggy’s engine troubles?” Keith asked.

Lance stopped snickering.

“What?” Keith asked, for what felt like the fiftieth time that evening.

Lance ducked his head, then looked up again, shy. “That’s still a thing you want to do?”

Keith couldn’t help it. He knew his expression was going fond. “Yeah, Lance. Of course.”

“Oh.” Lance bit his lip, turned his head to the side. Even in the dark, Keith could see the way his lashes lowered, the way Lance was looking away. “Yeah, if you could cover for the engine, and, uh, if we could do this again…” Lance was looking back at Keith, out of the corner of his eyes now.

Keith’s smile was so wide, he could feel it in his cheeks.

*

Keith’s usual Sundays meant meeting up with Shiro for some kickboxing in the afternoon and then grabbing something to eat and hanging out. The physical activity kept his mind pretty busy, so he didn’t worry too much about what to do next with Lance.

They went to Shiro’s after kickboxing and ordered takeout. Shiro had been keeping the conversation light prior to the arrival of food. Once he’d paid for their curry though, he immediately said, “I haven’t seen you much these days, Keith.”

Keith was looking through the plastic bag for utensils. “I’m at the Holt offices three times a week?” He didn’t really know what Shiro was trying to get at.

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “It’s going well?”

“You get my reports, and we don’t talk business outside of business,” Keith said. “That’s _your rule_. I’m happy to break it.”

Shiro gave him a dumb grin. “Okay, okay, I’m stalling. I have some news. Not business.”

“Yeah?”

Shiro laughed. He was looking a little red. Keith was very interested. “Allura asked me out for coffee on Friday.”

Keith dropped his spoon.

“And we went yesterday,” Shiro said.

“Holy shit!” Keith shouted.

“Don’t make a big deal out this--”

Keith slapped Shiro on the back. “Finally!”

Shiro was biting down on a smile. “It went well.”

“Obviously, it went well. You’ve been having coffee together for two years.”

Shiro looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. “See, I knew you’d say that. This is different, this is, you know. A real date.”

Keith picked up his spoon. It had only fallen on the couch, it was still clean. “Yeah, it’s official. Congratulations, buddy. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Shiro said, beaming. He laughed again. “I was trying to find a good moment to tell you all day.”

Keith nodded and chewed. It was normal, probably, to tell your friends about a date. But what was the situation with a quick hook-up? Especially with all the stuff Keith had bought for Lance, stuff he’d paid for. God, would Lance tell Hunk and Pidge? They had apparently already picked up on Keith’s interest, somehow, teasing Lance about a sugar daddy. Keith hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious. It would be, he thought, kind of nice if they knew. Not the sordid details. Only that, Lance was taken now. Keith’s stomach squirmed with nervous and giddy excitement. He put his food down.

Should Keith tell Shiro? He looked at Shiro, spooning rice onto his plate, as if he could make takeout on the couch classy. Keith hadn’t actually discussed this kind of thing with Lance. All they’d determined was that they were both on board for having sex. Maybe Lance wouldn’t tell his friends.

It would be best, Keith determined, to wait and see what Lance was choosing to do.

“What are you thinking about?” Shiro asked. “You’re looking pretty intense.”

“Just, uh,” Keith blinked, “work stuff.”

“No business outside of business,” Shiro said, “here, eat up.” He spooned rice into Keith’s takeout container.

Keith didn’t really mind, but he felt it required to say, “I’m not ten anymore, Shiro,” out of principle.

*

After three weeks of working with Pidge, Keith was pretty sure he understood them. What he understood was that Pidge would definitely make fun of him if they knew about his relationship with Lance. But they were also professional. So it wouldn’t last too long.

Keith walked into the conference room on Monday prepared for not-quite-the-worst.

“Hey,” Pidge said. They barely looked up from their laptop as they typed.

“Hi.” Keith slipped the usual coffees onto the table.

Pidge stopped typing. They gave their screen a pensive look. “Keith, do you think I should branch out?”

Keith’s briefcase almost slipped out of his fingers. “Um. What?” What did that mean? Branching out?

“I’ve been thinking of trying almond butter.” Pidge pressed their hands together and brought them to their mouth. “Hunk’s been pushing it for a while, but peanut butter is my passion.”

Keith was gaping a bit. He shut his mouth. If almond butter was the highest priority this morning, then maybe Lance _hadn’t_ said anything.

“I’ve heard good things about it?” Keith said. He’d heard those good things from Hunk during their Wednesday meetings. Pidge already knew everything he knew about almond butter. Pidge also knew that they already knew everything he knew about almond butter.

They sighed. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Keith waited, hovering by his seat. Eventually Pidge looked at him again, eyebrows raised.

“Are you waiting for something?”

“No, no,” Keith said, sitting himself down. He felt like he was missing something obvious.

*

On Wednesday Keith was still expectant. He’d figured out that Lance was closer to Hunk from everyone’s conversations. So even if Lance hadn’t told Pidge, there was the possibility he’d told Hunk.

And yet, Wednesday went like Monday with no comments about Keith’s relationship with Lance. Whatever that relationship was.

“Hey, all this patent stuff is going to wrap up in another week, right?” Hunk asked that morning, sipping his coffee.

“If we keep going at this rate, then it should,” Keith said. Keith had been aware of the schedule all this time. He hadn’t really thought about the implications of the end though. He’d barely started anything with Lance, and another two Fridays of required proximity weren't enough to figure this out.

“Great,” Hunk enthused. “I was thinking of having a celebration party for the end of it! You and Shiro are invited, and so’s Matt, as well as the three of us, and Coran, because of course. Plus ones too, I guess? Shay’ll be there because, you know,” he gave an embarrassed smile, “we live together now.”

“Oh my god,” Pidge said. Their voice sounded nasal. “You’ve been living together for more than a year, it’s old news, Hunk.”

Hunk beamed. “So, how about it, Keith? It’ll probably be Friday evening, on your last day?”

Keith was still feeling out of sorts, thinking about how little time he had. “Yeah, of course,” he said.

He looked down at the table. He noticed Pidge’s cup of coffee was untouched.

“Is there something wrong with it?” he asked, nodding toward the cup.

Pidge gave a pathetic cough. “Not in the mood for it.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “Pidge probably caught a cold from one the students during last night’s lab but they're in denial about it.”

“My throat is always this itchy,” Pidge said. “Sometimes, I just don’t want coffee.”

“And sometimes,” Hunk said, “Lance keeps his mouth shut about his love life.” He looked up at the ceiling and mock-whispered, “Sorry, Lance.”

Pidge glared at Hunk. Then they coughed again.

Keith felt anxious. Was that code? A pointed reference that Hunk _did_ know? Or was it coincidence to use that as an example? In which case, if it was such an obvious example, why had Lance not said anything? Maybe it was the same reason why Keith hadn’t said anything, that they hadn’t discussed it. He was frustrated from the circular argument he’d gotten himself stuck in.

Keith decided to not think about it again. He’d been in relationships before. He had always wanted them to work out. Maybe he had wanted too hard. Maybe he had wanted them the wrong way.

When he saw Lance, he didn’t think of that. All he thought was that he wanted to touch and be touched. It was much simpler. So he would take a simpler approach to this, and not worry.

He cleared his throat. “We should probably start if we want to meet the scheduled deadline.”

*

Considering Pidge had ended up leaving early on Wednesday because of their headache-- which they insisted was completely unrelated to a cold-- it was not a surprise that they weren’t there when Keith arrived on Friday morning.

Lance was there, though. He had his back to the door as Keith walked in. He was swinging his rolling chair from side to side. Keith’s breath caught in his throat. How had this gotten worse since Friday? Shouldn’t this feverishness have calmed down? Instead, the ache had only intensified.

He stepped fully into the office, placing the coffee holder on the table. Lance looked up. He fumbled the phone in his hands.

“Oh! Hey, Keith,” he said. “Hi. Hey.”

“Hello, Lance,” Keith said. He removed the three coffees from the holder and straightened them out on the table.

Lance waved his phone in the air before placing it down on table. “Pidge texted me. They won’t be coming in today, they’re sick.”

Keith nodded. Expected, but he’d gotten a third coffee in case. He wordlessly pushed a coffee over to Lance. It was an echo of the first time he’d done this. Lance gave him a crooked grin. Maybe he was thinking the same thing.

“So…” Lance said.

Keith froze.

Lance’s phone vibrated very loudly against the table.

“Ah, crap,” Lance muttered, as it vibrated again. “Meant to turn that off-- oh my god.”

“What?” Keith asked at the horrified look on Lance’s face.

Lance spluttered and shook his head.

“What is it?”

Lance pushed the phone into Keith’s hands and knocked his head against the table.

Lance’s phone was open to messages from THE PIDGEMEISTER. Curiosity made Keith scroll up further than he maybe needed to.

(8:58 AM) im dying tell keith i cant make it bc im dead

(8:58 AM) so u admit ur sick  
(9:00 AM) you’re avoiding the q  
(9:04 AM) PIDGE ADMIT YOURE SICK

(9:05 AM) lance i bequeath you the fucks i give which are none  
(9:08 AM) OMG UR ALONE IN THAT ROOM WITH YOUR SUGAR DADDY BETTER NOT DO ANYTHING NASTY ON THAT TABLE  
(9:08 AM) LANCE! I WORK THERE TO!!!!!

Keith could feel his eyes go wide. He stared at the phone and then at Lance. He felt confused.

“I thought Pidge didn’t know? No one said anything to me on Monday or Wednesday, so I assumed,” Keith said.

Lance startled and shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no, I didn’t tell anyone, this is just,” he laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck, “don’t worry, I wouldn’t tell.”

Keith frowned. It wasn’t something he was worried about. “Are you worried about it?” he asked.

“Uh,” Lance said. “No. I mean, what we have isn’t exactly orthodox, so I’m not, you know, I need to focus on my thesis. Anyway, Pidge’s being a little shit, it’s fine, it’s usual Pidge. Just, you know, kinda embarrassing. Um, you know, thinking about, um, that.”

“Right, not orthodox,” Keith repeated, before his mind skipped over Lance’s confusing conclusion about his thesis and caught up with the rest of what he’d said. His entire body prickled with heat. Right, of course. He cleared his throat. He looked at the table. He tried very hard to not think of bending Lance over it. He failed. He looked at the far wall.

He felt something brushing his hand.

“Sorry,” Lance said, pulling his hand away. “I need my phone back.”

“Right,” Keith said. He handed the phone over. “Of course.”

*

The tension eased itself slowly over the course of the morning and finally broke at lunch. They headed to the cafeteria together, with such ease that it felt like a regular long habit to Keith. He didn’t even need to tell Lance he’d be covering lunch for both of them. Lance gave him a smile, told him what he wanted, and headed to get a table for them.

When Keith got to their table, Lance gave Keith an obvious once-over.

“So… I did a lot of my work on time this week,” he said.

Keith nodded. “Time management is important.”

Lance leaned forward, across the table. He was wearing that same shirt from weeks ago, the one that gaped a little across the front. Keith was hard-pressed to think of something he hadn’t liked seeing Lance wear.

“Hey,” Lance said, head cocked to the side, white teeth flashing in a grin. “I mean, I’ve been responsible, you know.” He somehow managed to wink and waggle his eyebrows at the same time. “So I’m pretty free this evening.”

“Oh,” Keith said, already smiling, his feelings so obvious. He wanted to take Lance out for dinner, treat him to something special, then bring him over. He built up his courage to ask, but Lance beat him to it.

“Not until later, though. I need to stop by the mechanic’s first to pick up Peggy,” Lance said. “Thanks again, by the way.”

“No problem,” Keith said.

“And I have some things to take care of at home, so I figured I’d eat dinner and, uh, come over? If that’s okay?”

“It’s okay,” Keith said. “It’s very okay.”

“Cool. I’ll need your address.”

Keith made to pull out some paper from his briefcase but Lance had already shoved his phone across the table.

Keith hen-pecked his address in with his index fingers.

“Do you not use the phone much?” Lance asked.

“Hate it,” Keith replied, focused on trying to switch to the number keyboard. “Keep forgetting to charge it, too.”

“Oh. Alright.” Lance was biting his thumb when Keith looked up. He gave Keith a smile. “Here, tell me the address and I’ll type it in.”

*

Keith had been hovering by the door since Lance had buzzed in, late that evening. The moment there was a knock, he whipped the door open. Lance still had a fist raised.

“Hey,” Lance said, stepping forward. The tip of his nose was red from the cold, and his eyes were bright.

Keith grabbed him by the front of his coat and pulled him in, kissing him right in the doorway. He wasn’t feeling patient. Lance made an interested sound. His mouth was cold against Keith’s, and his fingers were chilly on Keith’s neck.

“You’re freezing,” Keith said.

Lance pulled back and gave a crooked grin. “But you’ll warm me up, right?”

Keith locked the door behind them, tugged at Lance’s coat to remove it, and ushered him toward the bedroom.

Lance was on Keith’s bed, on his back and looking up at Keith. For a moment Keith was overwhelmed, unsure of where to start. He settled himself astride Lance, leaned down to kiss him on the mouth, deep and dirty. They spent some moments like this, until Lance started to squirm against him. Keith grinded down. Lance whined, bucked up against him.

Keith kept grinding down, kept pulling back to tell himself to wait a bit more. He could feel Lance’s hardness against his own. It was driving him wild, trying to keep himself from rushing through everything.

Luckily for Keith’s patience, Lance started pulling at Keith’s clothes first, and that broke Keith’s hesitance. He jerked Lance's shirt out of his pants. He rubbed his hands against the bare skin underneath. It was so warm and soft. 

He buried his head in the crook of Lance’s neck, a little overcome.

“Hey, dude,” Lance whispered, wiggling under Keith. “Are you gonna help me with my shirt, or?”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled. “Your skin is nice.”

He pulled back to tug the shirt over Lance’s head. When he was done, Lance was staring back at him, eyes intense, hair ruffled from his shirt. His mouth was parted.

“Thanks,” Lance said. He twisted his head to the side, as if to avoid looking at Keith. It extended his neck in interesting ways.

Keith lowered his eyes, got caught on the expanse of skin of Lance’s chest. He brushed his hands over Lance’s collarbones, ran them down Lance’s sides, which made Lance laugh a little. He couldn’t stop looking, couldn’t stop touching Lance.

“Do you touch yourself?” he asked. His fingers skimmed over Lance’s stomach, brushing the trail of hair under the navel. He could feel the trembles under his touch.

“Yes?” Lance said. Keith looked up to see Lance squinting at him in confusion. “I jack off?”

Keith brought his hands back up. He brushed a thumb across each of Lance's nipples. Lance’s entire body twitched, his mouth open on a pant. “I meant here. Do you?”

Lance looked embarrassed but he scoffed. “Yeah. This isn't amateur hour.”

Keith smirked. “I didn’t know you were a professional masturbator.”

“I-- ” Lance paused. “I walked right into that one.”

“You did,” Keith said solemnly. He gave a pinch to both nipples, and a satisfied grin when Lance yelped. “Do you like that?”

Lance hissed. He brought his arms up to pull Keith down, his hands in Keith’s hair. “Just keep doing it.”

Keith licked one of Lance’s nipples, teased it until it was tight under his tongue. Lance swore and fidgeted. When Keith looked up, distracted from the second nipple, all Lance said was, “Keep going, keep going.”

He felt his hair being tugged at. Keith let out an embarrassing moan, right against Lance’s chest.

“Okay,” Lance said, “that’s enough clothes, take everything off. I can’t wait, you’ve got lube here, right?”

Lance had them both stripped down in moments. Keith was left a little flustered by how efficient Lance had been, and even more so by Lance going through his bedside table to find the lube and settling himself back down on the bed with his legs spread wide.

“Uh,” Keith said, his hand reaching out. He found himself seated on his knees at the foot of his own bed in the aftermath of Lance’s frenzied activities.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Lance sing-songed. He lifted a foot and pressed it against Keith’s chest, pushing him back. “Just watch.”

Keith did watch as Lance gave his cock a tug with one hand, and reached down with his other hand to press a finger to his hole. “You like putting on a show, huh?” Keith asked.

Lance gave a sharp grin but didn’t answer, arching his back and giving a showy moan. He already looked wrecked. His hair had gotten even more mussed, his nipples tender from Keith’s handiwork, his lips wet, his mouth open. His cock flushed and shiny from the precum Lance was smearing down, his fingers sinking into his ass, slick from lube. He was very noisy.

Keith didn’t think he’d ever seen anything better, didn’t think he’d ever been harder.

“I want to touch you too,” Keith mumbled.

Lance paused, two fingers deep in himself. He pushed his head to the side, but Keith had already seen the huge smile that had burst across his face. “Well, I want to put you on edge,” Lance said. He waggled his eyebrows.

“I’m already on edge,” Keith said, frowning. “I want to fuck you.”

Lance groaned, starting pumping his fingers into himself again. “You should tell me more. You should tell me everything you want to do to me.”

Keith considered this. He considered getting Lance so worked up with what he said that Lance would fucking stop teasing him like this. He remembered what Lance had said about his voice.

“I want to suck you off,” Keith said, lowering his voice, staring right at Lance. “I want to spread you wide open and eat you out. I want to spoil you.” He licked his lips, watched as Lance watched him, mesmerized. “I want to bury my dick deep in you. I’d fuck you exactly the way you want. I’d make you come, over and over again.” He swallowed. “I’d ride you, too. I want to touch you all over.”

It felt like the most Keith had ever said in one go, especially in bed. His voice was hoarse with want.

Lance was so red in the face, it was worrying. “Hurry up,” he said, pulling his hands away from himself, reaching out for Keith. “Hurry, shit, I really can’t wait now, hurry up.”

“Who’s fault is that,” Keith said. “Condom or no?”

“No,” Lance said. At Keith’s nod, Lance threw him the bottle of lube and shimmied himself further down the bed. He pawed at Keith’s shoulders. “C’mon, man, c’mon.”

The anticipation was coming to a head as Keith slicked himself up. His dick felt hot in his hand as he lined it up against Lance’s ass, and when he pushed in, it felt even hotter. His breath hitched, and he had to stop for a moment before sliding fully in.

“Holy crap,” Lance whispered, his hand inching toward his cock. “Worth the wait.”

Keith was completely still, hovering over Lance. “I haven’t even done anything yet, Lance.” He eyed Lance’s hands critically.

Lance gave a slightly hysterical giggle as he tugged at his cock. “C’mon, slam it into me.” He did something that suddenly made Keith feel like his dick was in a vice.

Keith groaned. It was getting hard holding himself up like this, and his arms were shaking. He pulled out part way and pushed back in, starting up a slow rhythm, squeezing at Lance’s hip with one hand. He could feel his heart pounding throughout his entire body, was convinced he could feel Lance’s pulse too where they touched.

At each thrust, Lance let out a keening sound, until it was a constant stream of noise as Keith went faster and harder. His own panting was loud in his ears. He could feel the sweat breaking out on his back, the heat rising up from Lance too. Lance had his eyes squeezed shut, and his hand was going faster on his cock. An intense feeling pulsed through Keith at that, and he knocked Lance’s hands off of his dick, pinned them down to his sides so he wouldn’t touch himself.

Lance’s eyes flew open, and he squirmed under Keith, trying to get relief. His mouth was trembling, opening and closing wordlessly. Keith kissed him, so hard it was more a graceless crush of their mouths.

“Keith,” Lance moaned, “touch me, oh my god, you can’t not--”

Keith already knew he’d do whatever Lance wanted. How could he not, when Lance looked at him like this?

Keith stroked Lance off, brutally efficient. He watched, like it was the most important thing he’d ever seen, as Lance came all over Keith’s hand, all over his own stomach.

“I’m close,” Keith whispered, giving another thrust of his hips, staring openly as Lance’s cock gave a last weak spurt.

Lance was slumped against the sheets, a sheen of sweat across his forehead, his chest heaving, mess on his stomach. “Then do it,” he said. He lifted his hands to Keith’s hair and, with a knowing smile, gave a tug. “Come on, Keith.”

Keith came with a gasp, head bowed. He gave a few more feeble thrusts until Lance shook his head, and everything was much slicker, much hotter.

“I’m pulling out now,” Keith said, when he started feeling too weak to keep himself propped up.

“Slowly,” Lance mumbled, his eyes half-closed.

Keith did go slowly, and watched in fascination as the come came dribbling out too. He ran a finger through it. “Can you push it out?” he asked out of curiosity, smearing it up the inside of Lance’s thigh.

Lance yelped and smacked his hand away. “God, you’re dirty. I’m gonna go clean myself like a not-dirty person.”

“Okay,” Keith said happily, following after Lance as he headed to the bathroom. “Like a shower, right?”

“Yes, Keith,” Lance said. “Go wash your dick.”

*

Keith woke up several times that night because Lance took all the blankets to himself in his sleep. Each time, Keith would peer over at Lance in his bed and feel so lucky he found it hard to go back to sleep.


	4. I wanna feel you for real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be the last one.

Keith woke up to Lance’s arm flung across his chest and sunlight streaming into his bedroom. The sunlight was made brighter by its reflecting off freshly fallen snow. There was something indescribably perfect about being indoors, in the warmth of his duvet and with Lance next to him, while it was cold outside.

Keith turned his head to look at Lance. Despite being asleep, Lance looked exhausted. There was an odd strain to his features, like he was holding himself back from frowning. The bags under his eyes were dark, even deeper than last week when Keith had first noticed them. (He also, Keith noted with some admiration, had stubble.)

Keith had never been spoiled. But he wanted, very much, to spoil Lance. He hoped Lance would be free today, so that he could take him out and ease some of that strain.

Lance’s arm twitched. Without thinking, Keith brought his hand up to soothe. He found himself looking right into Lance’s sleepy blue eyes.

“Good morning,” Keith said.

“Keith?” Lance mumbled, closing his eyes again. A moment passed, where it seemed like he might fall back to sleep. Then his eyes snapped back open. “Keith!”

“Yes, Lance?”

Lance sat up, letting in some cool air into the sheets. Keith burrowed deeper but angled his head up. He could see Lance’s back like this. His shoulders stretched out the t-shirt Keith had let him borrow the previous night.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lance was saying, running his hands through his hair, “I didn’t mean to impose, I should head out--”

“You’re not imposing,” Keith said. “I want you here.”

He could see the flush rising up the back of Lance’s neck. Lance twisted around to look at him. “Oh. Thanks. I mean, cool.” He nodded his head. “Yeah, um, I didn’t think I’d be staying the night though, so I didn’t bring a razor, or…”

Keith accepted it was time to get up. He sat up too. “I should have some extra. Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t have clothes.”

Keith grinned. “Let me take you shopping.”

Lance’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t mean in general, I mean, right now I don’t have clothes. I don’t have a change of clothes. I don’t need--”

“Yeah, I know,” Keith said, still grinning. He could feel his mouth slanting to the left, the smile that Shiro told him to use more often on clients. His charming smile. “Let me treat you. Let me take you shopping, whatever you want.”

Lance was still staring at him, blinking as if dazed.

Keith leaned forward, into Lance’s space, and whispered, “What do you want, Lance?”

Lance huffed out a laugh and bit down on his smile.

*

“When you said you eat out, I honestly didn't think you'd meant _every_ meal,” Lance said, cutting off a bite of his crepe. He was wearing another borrowed t-shirt from Keith and pants from the day before. He had insisted Keith not look at him all day. Keith thought it was cute.

Lance had gone through Keith’s kitchen and had expressed shock at the “barren wasteland.” Keith had shepherded him to the front door of his condo, not bothering to mount a defense.

“It's easier for me to eat out,” Keith said, “or order in, or whatever.” He took a bite of his eggs. He didn't mention that his usual breakfasts were either drive-through breakfast sandwiches or muffins from a coffee shop. He didn't want Lance to get self-conscious about their current location, which had fine tablecloths, fresh fruit, and French pressed coffee, among other things.

Lance seemed oblivious to Keith’s concerns, completely focused on his food. “This is so good,” he said between bites. “I'm gonna cry every morning this week when I make toast at home. I'm gonna remember this crepe and I'm gonna cry, and I'll never be happy again.”

Keith tried not to look too amused at Lance’s dramatics. “We can come here again, you know.”

“ _Every_ day of the week, Keith? Are you saying you will bring me here every morning--” Lance's phone rang. Lance squinted at his screen. “Hold that thought, it's my mom, I should pick up.”

Keith watched as Lance, turning slightly to the side out of politeness, answered his phone. To Keith's limited experience, it sounded like Spanish. The only words he picked up were the few English ones Lance sprinkled throughout: thesis, no, okay. He spoke like he wanted to cut the conversation short.

Caught-off guard like this, Keith felt a little wistful. Not for family, but for a history. He used to feel the same disconnection with himself when Shiro spoke with his parents in Japanese. They'd always switched to English when they saw Keith watching, which hadn’t help.

“Hey, sorry about that,” Lance said. “She's visiting my grandma in Cuba right now, so,” Lance's mouth twisted to the side, “so obviously I have to give a daily report on my marriage and work status.”

Keith took a larger gulp of coffee than he’d been planning to. It was hot. “Your marriage status?” he asked, clearing his throat.

Lance grinned, “Yeah, you know, as the only grandchild who’s not married or not working a real job,” he made air-quotes for 'real,’ “My grandma’s getting worried, which means she starts every day by telling us how little she has left to live.” Seemingly unconcerned with his grandmother's mortality, Lance cut off some more of his crepe. “Doesn't help that I'm a middle child. My little sister got married last summer and that's what's got me screwed over, if you ask me.”

This was a lot more family politics than Keith had ever encountered in one go. “Oh,” he said.

Lance blinked at him, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I mean,” he dropped his fork down, “I love my grandmother, of course I do.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have-- I'm kinda frustrated and I really shouldn't be saying things like that--”

“I wasn't judging,” Keith said.

Lance nodded but kept his eyes trained on the table. He picked up his fork again. “Right, yeah. I mean, I still feel bad. My family’s pretty great,” he said, smiling to himself. “It would’ve been nice to go on the trip with my mom, but I have my, um, thesis to work on, and, you know, stuff.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, not knowing what stuff was. 

“What about you?” Lance asked. “What's your family like? Any siblings?”

It figured if Keith had been thinking about it, even obliquely, it would get dragged into their conversation.

“No family, not by blood.”

Lance was back to blinking nervously at him, food abandoned again. Keith wished he'd go back to eating soon. The crepe could only get colder.

“Shit, sorry,” Lance said, “I didn't mean to overstep.” He gave a humorless laugh. “I'm a mess today. You don't have to--”

Keith shrugged. This conversation was always only ever awkward because of the other person. Keith already knew how he felt.

“It’s not a secret, and there’s not much to say.” Keith knew his shoulders were slumping over. He sat up straight and nodded at Lance’s plate. “It’ll get cold.”

Lance straightened up too. He looked embarrassed, but started eating again.

With Lance occupied and not looking him in the eye, Keith said, “I was in foster care. I actually know Shiro because of that-- his parents took me in when I was ten and I stayed there until I was twelve.” He ran his thumb over his lip, thinking. “Shiro stayed in touch with me after I left, I guess because he noticed how much I looked up to him. I went into law because of him.”

Lance was staring at him again. Keith’s face felt hot under his attentive gaze. “I know I’m not exactly, uh, most people think law is more for someone who’s a people-person…”

For some reason this apparently broke Lance’s gloomy mood. He grinned. “I think it suits you.”

Keith coughed. “Thanks. I do intellectual property law, so, um.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, uh, my last foster family was good to me, more patient about,” Keith looked away and made a vague sound meant to encompass everything he was as a teenager. “Helped with my college applications too, and we still talk sometimes. That's about it, for family.”

“Not bad,” Lance said, still grinning slightly.

Keith finished off his coffee. “Yeah,” he agreed. He folded his hands in front of him and watched as Lance took his last bite. “Where do you want to go?”

Lance waggled his eyebrows.

*

Shopping with Lance was easy. Lance lead the way, and they wound their way from store to store, from menswear, to shoes, to cosmetics. Every time Keith took something to the counter and pulled out his credit card, he felt a thrill. Was it obvious to the cashier, that he was paying for Lance? Keith kind of hoped so.

By the time they came to the department store Keith had gone to several weeks ago, for the lotion, Keith had already bought Lance: a thick wool coat, formal leather shoes, skincare products he didn’t understand, curtains, a 128GB flash drive, and the Fast & Furious Blu-ray boxset (all seven movies).

Keith wanted to buy Lance a suit too, one that would replace the cheap gray one he had. Getting a fitting done would take a long time though, and they were both starting to feel tired. Instead they headed toward the menswear section to get some button-ups, as a temporary measure to Lance’s sad suit situation.

“It’s not that bad,” Lance said with a good-natured smile.

Lance’s arms were full with all the shirts he had picked. An attendant was hovering behind him, trying to get his attention. Keith’s own hands were full of the shopping bags. He jerked his chin toward the attendant.

“Sir?” the attendant said, as Lance turned around and exclaimed, “Oh!”

The attendant gave a patient smile. “Would you like me to set up a fitting room for you? You can continue browsing.”

“That would be great. I’m all set on browsing, though,” Lance said.

The attendant took the shirts from Lance in a brisk and efficient manner. “Follow me, please.”

Lance turned and waggled his eyebrows at Keith. “You should follow _me_ , please, too.”

Keith lifted his knee and nudged at Lance’s ass with it. “If you move.”

The fitting room had a dark curtain. It was drawn to the side as the attendant showed the shirts hung on the hooks.

“Do tell me if you need a different size,” he said, and slipped away, leaving Keith and Lance staring at each other.

“I’ll just wait here,” Keith said, stepping back to sit on the bench.

Lance leered. “You don’t want to help me out?”

Keith did not want to give away that he had been thinking the same thing. He frowned. Lance rolled his eyes and retreated into the fitting room.

Keith sat there, thinking. He hadn’t been alone since the evening before, which was unusual for him. He’d been having fun with Lance. It was strange to realize that all the way back on New Year’s Eve he’d thought his feelings were only physical. He couldn’t have thought otherwise at the time, of course, since he hadn’t really known Lance then. He knew Lance a little better now, and he liked that.

The curtain to the fitting room rustled. Lance poked his head out. His hair was ruffled and he was blinking as if surprised. He looked cute. “I was joking before but I think I do need some help,” he said. He held his arm out, where his hand was caught in the cuff.

It felt inevitable to step into the fitting room, to lean the shopping bags against the mirrored wall. The curtain fell back into place behind Keith, turning the space intimate.

The shirt hung open across Lance’s chest. He lifted both his hands, supplicant.

“You didn't undo the cuff buttons,” Keith whispered. It didn't feel right to speak louder.

The corners of Lance's mouth lifted incrementally. “Guess I forgot,” he whispered back. His shoulders rose in a half-hearted shrug. His eyes were so pretty.

Keith bowed his head. He started buttoning Lance’s shirt from the bottom. So far he had only ever undressed Lance. He couldn't help compare the two acts, was surprised by how this was as affecting. The heat of Lance's skin seeped through the fabric to reach Keith. He thought, absurdly, of energy being conserved.

He continued making his way up the shirt, slowly hiding away Lance's soft, warm skin. Now Lance’s chin was in the way of the topmost buttons. Keith touched it with his knuckles, slowly guided it up. Lance’s eyes widened as he extended his neck.

Keith felt frozen at the sight. The next breath he took felt a shock, too big and quick all at once. He fumbled at the stiff cotton on the collar. The button was so tiny, the buttonhole yet smaller. His fingers felt ungainly as they brushed against Lance’s neck.

The button coming through the buttonhole, almost snapping into place after the tension against the fabric, was satisfying, but not enough. Keith tugged the points of the collar down. He cleared his throat.

“Now your cuffs,” he said. His voice was rough. He dropped his arms.

Lance lowered his head back down. He stared right at Keith, his mouth slightly open. He was still holding his hands up.

Keith undid the button on the right cuff. He focused wholly on the task, to not get distracted by the way Lance was looking at him. He moved to the left cuff, intent on undoing the button before buttoning up both cuffs back around Lance’s wrists. But the moment he undid the second cuff, freeing both of Lance’s hands, Lance grabbed him by the shoulders.

Keith looked up from where his hands were hovering around now empty air. He didn’t say anything.

Lance leaned forward, pressed his cheek against Keith’s. “I really, really want to blow you right now.”

Keith gripped Lance’s waist. He took in a stuttering breath. “Now? Uh, here?”

Lance pulled away to look Keith in the face. They both considered each other for a while.

“Not-- not here,” Lance finally said, as if agreeing to something that pained him. Then, “I couldn’t do that to Travis.”

Keith blinked at him. “Who’s Travis?”

“The attendant.”

Keith was bewildered. It must have been obvious on his face. Lance laughed.

“He had a name tag,” Lance said. He leaned in again, gave Keith a sweet kiss on his neck, close to his ear.

Keith burned up. He felt ridiculous for it.

He looked at all the shirts Lance hadn’t tried on yet. The thought of sitting through that was frustrating. “I’ll just--” Keith let go of Lance’s waist to gesture at the fitting room, “I’ll buy all of them.”

“What?” Lance’s eyes looked close to popping out.

“It’s fine,” Keith said. “If you don’t like any of them, we can return them. It’s fine,” he repeated. “I want to.”

“Well, okay,” Lance said, a little dazed. “I’ll, uh, here.” He stripped off his shirt. “I did like this one.”

“You took it off just fine,” Keith pointed out.

Lance grinned at him, piling on the rest of the shirts into Keith’s arms. “I thought you enjoyed yourself.”

Keith left the shopping bags in the fitting room with Lance as Lance changed back. He headed to the cash. The attendant, Travis, was leaning against the counter, chatting with the cashier. He straightened up when he saw Keith.

“And how did they work out for you?” he asked.

“Great,” Keith said. “Yes.” He turned toward the cashier. “Yes, I’ll be buying them all.”

*

“I wanna spoil you,” Keith muttered into the back of Lance’s neck. It was sticky with sweat. Keith rubbed his nose against the skin, bit down on the collar of Lance’s t-shirt (Keith’s t-shirt, on Lance) to pull it out of the way. He let go of the collar to press the flat of his tongue against the bump of the top knob of Lance’s spine. He kept his grip firm on Lance’s cock. “I like you picky and spoiled. I want you to be greedy.”

Lance squirmed on Keith’s lap, his back pressed against Keith’s front.

Lance had sucked Keith off the moment they had hit his couch, the many shopping bags abandoned and scattered across the floor. Lance had settled himself on his knees, between Keith’s legs, had gripped Keith’s hips with his hands. He’d been sloppy and eager. Keith had been very much into it. He’d already thought Lance ran warm, but the inside of his mouth was even hotter. He couldn’t stop touching Lance, his hair, his face, in wonder, as Lance had licked up his shaft, sank back down on it. When he had come, Lance had swallowed him down, a flush high on his cheeks, lips red and wet.

Keith had dropped back against the couch, breathless. He’d felt boneless, unable to stand. Lance had been looking up at him, rubbing at himself. His eyes had been frantic. Keith had pulled him up, onto his lap and into his arms, had pushed Lance’s pants out of the way.

He’d always take care of Lance.

It felt good to have Lance’s weight on top of him, holding him down. It felt good to have his arms full of Lance, who reacted so easily to anything. Keith ran a hand up under Lance’s shirt, which made Lance arch his back into the touch. He rubbed a thumb against the head of Lance’s cock, which made Lance jerk his hips upwards. Lance’s hands tensed and flexed where they were braced against the leather of the couch seats. Keith felt very much the cat who got the cream.

He hooked his chin over Lance’s shoulder and eyed the shopping bags on the floor.

“Hey,” Keith whispered, mouth curling upwards in pleasure, “are your eyes open?”

Lance shook his head. Keith kissed up his neck.

“Look,” Keith said, his breath hot against Lance’s ear, “look.” He waited. “See? I’ll take care of you.”

“Fuck,” Lance hissed. The little hitching sounds he made were getting Keith hard again. The squirming, too. “God, Keith, _please_ , oh my god.”

Keith raised a hand to Lance’s mouth. “Here, lick it again.”

Objectively-- but Keith wasn’t feeling very objective. Lance’s tongue licking across his palm was something he’d think about a lot, probably.

He jerked Lance off, his palm slick, his teeth on Lance’s shoulder. Lance got noisier, but came with only a punched-out gasp. He slumped against Keith.

Keith maneuvered himself and Lance until they were lying on the couch lengthwise, facing each other. Lance was loose-limbed and pliant. His expression was soft, in the way his eyelids were lowered, in the shape of his mouth. Keith ran his clean hand down Lance’s arm, almost petting him. He stared openly at Lance as Lance blinked back. Lance did not look as exhausted as he had that morning. Simply tired, in a healthy way. Keith felt satisfied.

Lance twisted, yawning into his shoulder. He scratched at his cheek, looking more alert. He huffed. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Keith asked.

Lance’s mouth pursed, into something considering and serious. “I don’t know. But don’t do it.”

Keith raised his eyes so that he was looking at the wall. “How’s that?”

Lance didn’t answer. Keith looked back down.

“Sorry, I was thinking,” Lance said. He sighed. “I have to go to into the lab today and I might be running late.”

“Okay,” Keith said. “Do you need a ride?”

“It’s fine, I drove here last night,” Lance reminded him. He sighed again. “I don’t wanna go, though. I don’t want to… do stuff.” He ran a hand down his face and groaned.

Keith wanted to tell him to stay. Lance was looking tired again, in the bad way.

Lance went to the bathroom to clean himself up. Keith fixed his clothes and washed his hands at the kitchen sink. He carefully picked up all the shopping bags from the floor and was holding them when Lance came back.

Lance gave the shopping bags an indecipherable look. Keith wondered, not for the first time, what Lance was thinking about.

“Thanks,” Lance said, ducking his head. He reached for the bags and inspected them. He extracted one of them and gave it back to Keith. “That’s actually-- I thought it would be nice for your bedroom, since…” He was mumbling, looking to the side.

Keith opened the bag and saw the curtains. He remembered how Lance had inspected at least five patterns at the store, had touched them all, had decisively picked these. He’d asked for Keith’s opinion, but Keith didn’t have an opinion.

He felt warm, in his face, in his chest. He had a very strong opinion on these curtains now. “Thank you,” he said, the earnestness embarrassingly obvious in his voice.

Lance gave him a pained expression. “Don’t thank _me_ , Keith, you’re the one who paid for them.” He looked away. “It’s kinda weird of me, to, like, force you into curtains, I guess. But, um, you’re weird, too, and,” he turned back to look at Keith, a little amused, “you seem pretty happy?”

Keith nodded. He walked Lance to the door, and thought about how thoughtful Lance was as he waved goodbye.

*

Wednesday was a reminder of how little time Keith had to figure everything out.

When he came into the conference room, it was to find Pidge and Hunk talking to each other in low voices. Keith put the coffees on the table and sat down, nodding hello.

“Hey, Keith,” Hunk said, breaking off from the conversation. “How are you?”

“Good,” Keith said, without thinking about it. “Uh, you?”

“Not bad,” he said. His mouth was downturned. “Like, I’m okay. I’m fine.”

Pidge rolled their eyes as they reached for their coffee. “He’s worried about Lance.”

Keith tensed. Hunk scowled.

“ _You’re_ worried, too,” Hunk said. “You’re the one who said he’d been avoiding Coran! Why would you tell me that if you weren’t worried?”

“Fine,” Pidge sniffed, “we’re both worried about Lance.”

Now Keith was worried too, but he didn’t know why. “Uh,” he said. “Is Lance okay?” he asked.

Pidge gave him the withering look he deserved for that question. Hunk puffed out his cheeks, like he was thinking.

“I mean, he won’t tell us anything,” Hunk said. “Like, I asked him how he was feeling about his thesis and he--”

“Avoided the question?” Pidge suggested. “He never talks about the actual content of his thesis with _anyone_ , but I thought he’d at least talk about it with you.”

Hunk gave the table a light slap. “He used to! Like, really early on. But I guess last year, after he came across that problem with the MATLAB code--”

Pidge snorted. “Fuck MATLAB.”

“-- after that, he kind of lost steam, maybe?”

“But he goes to the lab,” Keith said. Both Pidge and Hunk turned to look at him, as if they had forgotten he was there. “Right?” Keith added.

“Right,” Hunk said, giving Keith a look. “Well, it’s not only thesis work that he’s doing there. He’s doing grant applications and marking quizzes. But,” he turned to Pidge again, “it’s the thesis work that he’s avoiding. He’s in lab all the time for stuff he shouldn’t be wasting time on right now.”

Pidge stared at their coffee.

“I’m defending in, like, three months, Pidge,” Hunk hissed. “We were supposed to defend at the same time! And that’s fine, that the schedule changes, mine’s changed twice already, but his timeline is a complete mystery to everyone!”

“Hunk,” Pidge started. They didn’t seem to have anything to say after that.

Keith cleared his throat. Both Hunk and Pidge looked a little guilty. This conversation was probably not meant to be heard by Keith. Something must have been boiling over, for them to discuss it now.

“I don’t know Lance very well,” Keith said, and he realized he meant it, “but I think he’ll figure it out.”

Pidge and Hunk stared at him. Keith stared back.

“So… don’t worry too much?” he added.

Hunk laughed, though it sounded strained. “I’m worrying too much, aren’t I?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Pidge said, looking relieved. “You are. I seriously did not think mentioning the Coran thing would set you off.”

Hunk ran a hand through his hair. Looking at him, Keith could see his eyes were as tired as Lance’s were on Saturday morning. “I guess my own thesis is freaking me out. He’s an adult, he can take care of himself.” He raised his fists and shook them, like he was pumping himself up. “I gotta trust my buddy!”

“Uh huh,” Pidge said.

Even though Keith was the one who had reassured Hunk, Keith was still worried. The details were so vague to him, though, that he still didn’t know why he was worried.

“But you!” Hunk said, pointing at Keith. “You never replied to my text!”

Keith felt alarmed. “What text?”

Hunk frowned. “I swear I sent it to you. The number you gave us at the beginning, for work stuff?”

“Oh,” Keith said, trying to remember. “My work phone? I keep forgetting to charge it.”

“I’m judging you,” Pidge said.

Hunk waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I need to know if you’re bringing a plus one.”

Keith had been shifting in his chair as Hunk said this. He banged his knee on the table. “A plus-- um, no. I don’t.” Keith blinked helplessly. He mumbled something. He hoped it didn’t look suspicious.

“Okay,” Hunk said. He looked suspicious. “That really cleared it up, thank you.”

“I don’t have a plus one,” Pidge said. They sounded bitter.

“I know,” Hunk said, in a very patient tone. “You’ve told me every day. And no, you’re still not allowed to bring any food.”

“It’s a potluck!” Pidge cried out. They glowered. “You don’t understand, Hunk.”

Hunk gave first Pidge a look, then Keith. “I understand too much.”

*

Friday was the last day.

Keith walked through the Holt offices, taking in details he never had before. He never thought himself sentimental, but he could appreciate that places held meaning. Here, he appreciated the dark tiling of the floor and the sparse modern art on the walls.

In the conference room, he appreciated Lance’s smile and Pidge’s focus. He’d see them, and Hunk, again that evening. Yet there was a feeling of something bigger within him.

At lunch, he went through what was now routine with Lance. It was the last day for this routine. He didn’t mention Wednesday’s conversation with Hunk and Pidge. He didn’t think Lance would appreciate that they had talked about him like that. Instead he asked if Lance had tried on all the shirts yet.

They ended their work early. The bulk of it had been finished on Monday anyway. All they were doing was finishing touches, double-checking, fooling around. Pidge was the first to get tired of this, and packed up to go.

“I’d say let’s go out for drinks to celebrate,” Pidge said, flashing a grin, “but we’re all going to Hunk’s to do this in style, so I’ll see you both there.”

“You got it,” Lance said, his head resting across his arms on the table. He sat up suddenly. “Remember, you’re not allowed to bring any food! Seriously, Pidge.”

Pidge gave a sweet smile and said nothing.

“See you,” Keith said.

Pidge left. Keith turned to Lance.

“You gonna head out now, too?” Lance asked.

“I guess,” Keith said. “Do you, um.” He didn’t know what he wanted to ask.

Lance guessed for him. “I don’t need a ride.”

Keith nodded. He felt short of breath. “Cool.”

Lance gave him a smile. “I’ll see you tonight, Keith.”


	5. (I wanna hold hands and call you pet names)

Keith left his condo and drove to Hunk’s place too quickly. The address was close to Lance’s apartment building, only a few blocks away. Keith arrived a good fifteen minutes early.

He managed to sit in his car for two minutes before giving up on his patience and going to the front door. He’d brought with him two bottles of wine as his offering for the potluck. Now he was second-guessing his choice. The door opened before he could convince himself to go back to his car and buy a cake.

“Hello,” said the woman standing in the doorway. At Keith’s outstretched hand she stepped aside and said, “Please, come in, let’s do introductions where it’s warm.”

Now that he’d stepped into the foyer and the light wasn’t coming from behind her, Keith could see her friendly smile and her large eyes, almost golden in the light.

“You must be Keith?” she guessed. “I’m Shay.”

“Nice to meet you,” Keith said, as they shook hands. “I’ve brought two bottles, I hope it’s enough?”

“Of course.” She smiled wider. “Let me get your coat and I’ll show you around.”

“Is that Keith?” someone called out from elsewhere in the house. Hunk appeared around a doorway, wearing an apron. “Hey, man, it’s good to see you! You caught me in the middle of cooking--”

“I shouldn’t have come so early--”

“It’s fine.” Hunk beamed. “It’s great! Let Shay show you around, and I’ll be done.”

The tour of the house was short and ended with Keith sitting in the tiny living room, clutching a glass of ginger ale. He was sunk deep into the small couch, the cushions all falling against him until he felt a bit like he was being buried under them.

Shay sat on a hardbacked chair across from him. She smiled.

“You’ve been working with Hunk for the Holt company, yes? You do law?”

“Yes,” Keith said, trying to sit up. There was a pouf under his arm he was sure hadn’t been there a moment ago. “There are a lot of cushions here.”

“Do you like them?” Shay asked. “I like to crochet when I'm stressed, so I make cushion covers.”

Keith didn’t really know much about interior decor. “They’re very nice,” he said.

Shay kept smiling at him. From the kitchen, which had an entrance right into the living room, came the sound of Hunk humming. Keith took a sip of his drink. It took all his concentration to not spill it, due to his precarious position on the couch. He thought maybe things would have been less awkward if he had come at the correct time.

“What do--” Keith cleared his throat. “What do you do? Um, when you’re not doing crochet.”

Shay looked like she was holding back a laugh. “I actually just finished my masters in mining engineering,” she said. “So I’m looking for a job now. I do hope for something close to here so I can stay near Hunk, but most jobs for my field are in remote areas, unless I want to keep doing research at the university.” She made a face at this which implied she did not want to keep doing research.

“Ah,” Keith said.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll go get that,” Shay said as she stood up.

Keith let out a breath of relief. He hoped whoever came was someone he knew. Someone who could hold a conversation better than him.

Shay came back to the living room with a man following her. It was Coran.

“Ah, Keith!” Coran said. He handed a covered dish to Shay, who slipped out of the room toward the kitchen. Coran extended a hand toward Keith to shake. Keith struggled against the cushions until he was standing. “It’s been far too long! Where have you been lately?”

Coran’s handshake was as vigorous as the other two times Keith had experienced it. Both those times had been with Shiro and Allura present. He knew Coran was Lance’s advisor, but the strangeness of it was hitting him properly now.

“Working,” Keith said, before realizing Coran already knew that. “And, uh, keeping myself busy.”

Coran let out a good laugh at that. “Aren’t we all?” he said, shaking his head ruefully.

Keith didn’t know what to say to that. Luckily Shay came back, holding out a glass of wine, and from the kitchen they heard Hunk say, “Professor, I’ll be out in a bit!”

Shay threw a smile over her shoulder toward the kitchen. She turned back to Coran. “Here’s some wine for you, professor,” she said. “Keith brought it over.”

Coran exclaimed over it. He and Shay slipped easily into a conversation. Keith debated staying standing or sitting back down on the couch. It would be kind of weird to be sitting while everyone else was standing. This couch in particular made Keith feel undignified too.

Hunk stepped into the living room, his apron in hand, just as the doorbell rang again.

“I’ll get it,” he said, touching Shay’s arm as he passed her by to get to the hallway entrance.

They heard more exclamations from the entrance, and Matt came in, following after Hunk.

Matt held up a glass bowl of what looked to be salad. “The only Holt allowed to bring food!” he cried out.

Hunk laughed and took the salad toward the kitchen. Matt turned to the others and greeted them all. Keith wondered where Pidge was.

“Keith, you did some great work for the company,” Matt said, as he shook Keith’s hand. “Shiro always speaks highly of you.”

Keith found Matt intimidating on a good day. He was friendly with a deft touch. It was a skill Keith admired.

“Thank you,” Keith managed to say. “Your-- it was a great project to work on. Pidge and Hunk and Lance are all very skilled.”

Matt beamed. “They work so well as a team. I _am_ hoping to get them to come in on another contract, but they’re all so busy with their doctorates.”

“Ah ah ah,” Coran said, turning from his conversation with Shay to wag a finger. “Do not steal my students away from me quite yet, Mr. Holt!”

Matt laughed. “They’re not all your students,” he said. “Pidge only does side projects for you.”

Their good-natured ribbing continued. Shay watched on, amused, and seemed to know exactly when to interject with an appropriate comment. Hunk seemed to be stuck in the kitchen again.

Keith felt so, so, so incredibly awkward.

The doorbell rang again. It had to be someone Keith knew better than this crowd.

Shay went to answer it and came back with Shiro and Allura in tow. Keith thought he might weep with joy.

They made their rounds around the room, greeting everyone. Finally, Shiro slung his good arm around Keith’s shoulders.

“Hey, how are you?” he asked.

“Good,” Keith replied, feeling it to be true now. “You?”

Shiro smiled wide, glancing up at Allura who was hugging Coran. “Great,” he said.

They heard Coran wheeze.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” Allura said, rubbing Coran’s back. “I’ve been bulking up and I seem to forget my strength.”

“That’s quite alright, dear,” Coran said. “It’s good to see you do well in your fights.”

“Her wrestling’s going well?” Keith asked Shiro.

Shiro gave a proud nod. “She’s got a new coach and he seems to really know what’ll help her.”

They talked more about Allura’s wrestling, and Allura herself joined to add some more insight. Hunk came back to the living room with extra chairs and stayed to chat with the others. Keith was feeling properly at ease, even though he noticed it was now twenty past and neither Lance nor Pidge had showed up yet.

At twenty-five past, there was a knock on the door.

“That has to be Lance,” Hunk said, “he never remembers the doorbell.”

Hunk left and came back with Lance. Lance stepped into the room holding a box. “I brought flan!”

He was wearing one of the shirts Keith had bought him last weekend. In fact, it was the one he had tried on at the store, the one Keith had helped with. Keith remembered because of the distinctive color.

“Is that a new shirt, Lance?” Shay asked. “It’s a very nice color.”

“Uh,” Lance said, his eyes wide as he held firmly onto his flan. To Keith it was obvious how Lance was avoiding looking at him.

“Yup!” Lance yelped. “A nice person… Gave it to me.”

Keith considered sinking back into the couch until he disappeared.

“That’s cool, buddy,” Hunk said. “Wanna… Let go of that flan? So I can take it to the kitchen?”

Lance relinquished the flan. His eyes immediately went to Coran.

“Hey professor,” he said. “Good to see you, good to see you. Oh hey, that intro? And the, uh, the rest of the data analysis?” He winked and pointed some finger guns. “It’s comin’ your way, don’t you worry!”

Coran looked bemused more than anything else. “Lance, do not fret! I am not worried.”

“Fretting? Me?” Lance said. “Don’t you worry about me fretting about you worrying!”

“Please,” Allura said, as Coran opened his mouth to reply, presumably about how he wasn’t worrying about Lance’s fretting, etc. “Let’s not do this now.”

Both Lance and Coran sniffed at this, and Lance went around the room to say his hellos.

When he got to Keith’s corner of the room, he was strangely formal. He held out his hand and said, “Good evening, Keith.”

“Hi, Lance,” Keith said. Lance’s hand was warm in his. They shook hands a little longer than necessary.

Shiro and Allura watched them, wearing matching looks of mild concern.

Lance turned to Allura. “You look beautiful this evening, Miss Allura.”

Allura’s expression flattened. “Thank you, Lance,” she said, drily.

“And--” Lance said, turning toward Shiro. He seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say. “You look very great, too!”

Shiro raised his eyebrows like he was looking at a confusing puzzle. “Thanks?”

Lance seemed to be ready to continue digging himself into a conversational hole, except the doorbell rang again.

“And that must be Pidge,” Shay said, getting up. “Which will make all of us here!” She left to get the door.

When she came back, Pidge was following her, a manic gleam in their eyes.

“Hey Pidge,” Matt said, “why didn’t you want a ride?”

“I found the love of my life!” Pidge cried out.

Matt’s mouth dropped open. Shay clapped her hands. Everyone leaned forward.

“Like… ” Lance started to say, but Pidge held out a hand to stop him.

“Don’t finish that sentence,” they said, “though, yes, I do think that one day we can have meaningful relationships with artificial intelligence.”

“Legit,” Lance said.

“Well?” Hunk cried. “Spill!”

“Okay, okay,” Pidge said, and now that they were settling to tell the story, Keith could see how genuinely happy they looked. “So after work I went to the coffeeshop around the corner--”

“No!” at least three people cried out. Keith thought it might have been Matt, Lance, and Hunk.

“Pidge,” Hunk said, “ _you’re_ the one who implemented the rule about no coffee after work.”

“Okay, look, first of all we finished our work early, so it was still an acceptable hour--”

“Should we be saying that in front of our boss?” Lance said, giving Matt a nervous look.

“I never heard you,” Matt said. “Pidge got coffee at a reasonable hour for some mysterious reason I shall never find out.”

Pidge grinned, joy bubbling through them. “ _Anyway_ , I got a coffee and I was walking by one of the tables and I saw this girl doing some math, and I was, you know, curious--”

“An excellent quality in a researcher,” Coran said.

“So I took a little peek, and it was stuff like…” Pidge got a distant look in their eyes. “Like, oh man, it was beautiful, you know? I didn’t get half of it, but it was so…” They shook their head. “So I asked her about it, and we got to talking, and it turns out she’s doing her doctorate on topological space and also that’s she’s _so_ cool! And,” Pidge took a deep breath, “and we’ve got a date for tomorrow. Her name is Zaria.”

Hunk let out a whoop and Lance clapped and said, “Sli-ick, Pidge.”

“Oh my god,” Matt said, looking faint but also proud.

“Wow,” Shiro said, almost to himself. Maybe he was impressed by how it didn’t take Pidge several years to make a move.

“That’s great, Pidge,” Allura said as Shay added, “I hope we meet her one day.”

“Of course,” Pidge said. They looked pleased but also wondrous as they said, “It was love at first sight. Of her math.” Then they turned a little pink, which was a first as far as Keith knew. “And of her,” they mumbled. “She's pretty. Really nice eyes--” they cut themself off, clearly embarrassed.

Keith was honestly surprised. Not that Pidge had found someone, but that they seemed so confident about it after only one meeting.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lance edging out of the room. No one else seemed to notice, as they were either crowding around Pidge, asking more questions, or retreating back to their own conversations. Keith bit his lip, looked around, and followed after Lance.

Even though the living room was quite open, with a doorway each to the kitchen and to the hallway, there was still a distinctive shift in atmosphere once he stepped out. It was slightly cooler in the hall, away from the crowd of seven people, and the further he walked down the corridor, the quieter it got.

Keith could see Lance at the far end of the hallway, looking out a window. He approached slowly.

“Hey,” he said, waiting while Lance turned his back to the window and leaned against it before asking, “you okay?”

The light was low at this end of the hallway, but Keith could see the snow falling through the glass behind Lance. The temperature was even cooler here, heat leaking through the window frame to the outside.

“Yeah,” Lance said. “Just, uh, a lot of stuff happening at once, had to get out of there.”

Keith found it strange that Lance would find it overwhelming when usually Lance was the overwhelming one. But then again, who was Keith to judge?

Lance wasn’t meeting Keith’s eyes, but he did keep talking. “And today was our last day, it was kinda…” He broke off and ducked his head down.

“Sad?” Keith said.

“No. I mean, yeah.” Lance straightened back up. “You know what I mean. Anyway, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Keith said.

Lance pushed himself off the windowsill. “I think I’m gonna go get a drink.”

“I brought wine,” Keith said.

Lance dropped a hand onto Keith’s shoulder and squeezed. “Sounds good. Thanks.”

*

The meal was amazing. Hunk had made a roast along with potatoes and vegetables, and on the side there was Matt’s salad, Coran’s rice, and an eggplant dish from Allura and Shiro. Everyone had nice things to say about the wine Keith had brought.

Since there was so little room to sit, everyone filled up their plates in the kitchen and crowded together in the living room to eat, their plates carefully balanced on their knees, their drinks on the center coffee table.

Keith found himself surprised at having such a good time. Dinner parties were few and far between in his life, either as a consequence of the type of people he knew, or because he’d managed to slip his way out them. Most likely, it was a combination. But now he was sitting on a chair surrounded by friends and acquaintances he wouldn’t mind getting to know better. And Lance, who defied both categories, and who was currently suffering in the grips of Hunk’s couch.

“Dude, I thought you’d get a new couch when you moved out,” Lance grumbled. “This thing is old _and_ useless.”

“ _I_ like it,” Hunk said.

“I should hope so, you made me help you carry it here,” Lance said. “Shay, how do you put up with this thing? I barely managed for three years.”

“He lets me decorate it with all my cushions,” Shay said, the blandest look on her face. “It’s a compromise.”

Lance shook his head, which dislodged a cushion. He managed to knock it out of the way before it landed on his plate. Keith laughed, and Lance gave him a strange look at that.

Matt cleared his throat, distracting Keith from Lance. “How about a toast?” Matt asked, raising his glass.

“Yes!” Allura said. “Let's celebrate a job well done!”

Matt gave her a nod. “Exactly. These kids need to know they're appreciated.”

“You're not that much older than us,” Pidge pointed out, but lifted their glass.

“To a job well done!” Matt said, and everyone repeated it after him, the room filling with the sound of clinking glass.

Keith leaned down from his seat toward where Lance was stuck in the couch to touch glasses with him. Lance gave him a lazy look and lifted his glass to Keith. Their fingers brushed as Keith adjusted the angle of his hand.

“Good job, Lance,” he said.

Lance gave a wry grin before composing himself. His eyes were big and solemn. “You too, Keith.”

He downed the rest of his wine before Keith had even pulled away.

*

Lance took Keith away from the crowd while Shay was making coffee and tea for dessert. His hand tugged at Keith’s arm, and Keith followed him to the bathroom.

The bathroom was small, and felt out-of-date with its lilac tiling and its old mirror. Lance leaned against the sink and watched Keith from below his eyelashes.

“Hey,” Keith said.

Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s neck and giggled.

“Are you drunk?” Keith asked.

“Nah,” Lance said, and Keith wouldn’t have believed him except his gaze was lucid, “a bit tipsy, though?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lance leaned into Keith, settled his head against Keith’s neck. He sighed, and Keith felt it ruffle his hair. “You’re cute,” he said.

Keith could feel his cheeks warm. “Thanks.”

Lance pressed closer to Keith for a moment, then pulled away. He looked Keith in the face. He was blinking a lot.

“You okay? Really?” Keith asked.

Lance frowned at him and kissed him. It was a soft press of his lips against Keith’s, careful, gentle, delicate. It was things their kisses hadn’t really been so far. Keith could taste the wine he’d bought on Lance’s mouth.

He could feel Lance’s thumb against his jaw, the slow strokes of it. Keith felt lost in the sensation.

Then Lance moved away slightly, and there was a little hitch of his breath, but it was wrong.

“Hey,” Keith said, immediately concerned, “Lance?”

Lance let go of Keith completely and turned. Keith heard him take in a shaky breath.

“Are you crying?” Keith asked, bewildered.

“No,” Lance said, his torso twisting further away.

Keith angled his head to try to see Lance’s face, but Lance turned away again, bumping against the edge of the sink.

“I’m _not_ crying,” Lance said, but his voice came out wrong, and then he seemed to give up and his shoulders started to shake.

Keith tried not to panic.

“Wha-- What’s wrong?”

Lance hiccuped and waved a hand.

“Lance,” Keith said, pleading.

“How come,” Lance managed to say past his sniffling, “how am I? Am I doing things wrong? I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Keith said. He reached out, touched Lance’s back. “I don’t understand what you’re--”

Lance turned back around and grabbed Keith’s shoulder. He squeezed hard. His eyes were rimmed red, and shiny, his eyebrows pinched in a hurt expression. Keith’s heart gave a sharp pang at the tears on Lance’s face. He wanted to gather Lance up and fix everything.

“Everyone has such nice relationships,” Lance said, letting go of Keith’s shoulder, “am I fucking this up by just being me?”

Keith blinked at him, not understanding. “Nothing’s fucked up,” he said. “I thought this was nice. I-- I mean, there are things we haven’t figured out yet, but I thought, since you didn’t tell anybody--”

Lance didn’t seem to be listening to him. He was blinking a lot again, a wild look in his eyes, his mouth trembling. “You only want me for sex.”

Keith frowned. “No,” he said.

Lance spluttered at this. It didn’t seem to be the answer he expected. “Then? What else? I’m doing so shit at everything else, I’m not,” he waved an arm at the door, “like everyone else, smart, doing their PhDs, fuck. I’m not a genius. Everything I did for the Holt project, they didn’t even need me, you know? They could have all--”

“You can’t know that for sure,” Keith said, but Lance shook his head, didn’t meet Keith’s eyes.

“I was dragging them behind,” he said. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “And you… you’re gonna realize that, you’re not gonna--”

“What,” Keith said, so sharply that Lance’s shoulders jumped. “Where are you getting this from? Why would I--”

“Dude,” Lance said, rubbing a hand across his eyes, “you don’t even check your texts. C’mon.”

Keith froze, but his heart was going too fast.

“I should never have let you pay for my parking ticket,” Lance mumbled.

Keith couldn’t process what he was feeling. It was all white noise.

There was a knock on the door.

Keith wanted to bang on the door and snarl, ‘Not _yet_ , we’re not _done_ yet,’ but Lance opened the door.

“Hey, Hunk,” he said. His voice still sounded thick.

“Lance? Are you crying in my bathroom?” Hunk looked into the bathroom. “With Keith?”

“No,” Lance said, his line of his shoulders dejected. “I think I’m gonna head home.”

Hunk gave Keith an indecipherable look. If Keith were in Hunk’s shoes, he’d be starting a fight right about now. Instead, Hunk stepped aside and asked Lance, “You good to go home like that?”

There was a pause. “No,” Lance said, finally.

“I’ll walk you,” Hunk said. “The flan’s out, by the way,” he said to Keith.

Keith could not think of anything he wanted to do less than eat flan in a room full of people who were also eating flan.

“Thanks,” he said, and watched as Lance slunk away, following Hunk toward the foyer.

*

Keith tried. He didn’t take any dessert, because he really couldn’t stomach anything, but he sat in his seat and tried to listen to the conversations.

Shiro gave him a concerned look. Keith ignored it.

Hunk came back within ten minutes. Right, Keith thought, Lance lives nearby.

He sat there in the living room for another ten minutes before giving up.

“I should head out,” he mumbled. “Have a bit of a headache,” he said, and realized, oh, it was true. His head did hurt a lot.

He managed to say goodbye to everyone, though by the time he was in his car he couldn’t remember the details. All he remembered was Hunk at the door saying, “Take care of yourself, Keith.” Keith had tried to decipher the look on his face, but it had been hard to see with the way Hunk had been backlit from the hallway light. Hunk had looked like he was some kind of powerful being, the one with all the answers.

Keith waited at a red light and squinted against the pain in his temple. He was reading too much into it. The only person who knew what Lance was thinking or feeling was Lance.

The only person who knew what Keith was thinking or feeling was supposed to be Keith.

Keith couldn’t really identify what he was feeling, though. Frustration, confusion, a sense of loss... It was hard to pinpoint. He only knew it was bad. He felt like, if only he could figure it out, he’d know what to do next.

Back in his condo, Keith took an ibuprofen and went directly to bed.

His curtains were drawn. Keith couldn’t bear to look at them. He turned over and shut his eyes.

*

Keith woke up to a sense of dread. He couldn’t remember why at first, and then the entire evening came back to him in a rush.

He didn’t know what to do… He didn’t…

He realized he should probably find his work phone.

He found it under a couch cushion. The battery was completely dead, which was not a surprise. He plugged it in and made coffee while he waited, scoured his barren wasteland of a kitchen for something to eat and came up with a packet of instant oatmeal.

Keith had two phones, because of Shiro. There was his work phone, which was for work, and therefore was the number he had shared with Lance, Pidge, and Hunk. When he bothered to turn it on, he used it to check his email, which he preferred to do on his laptop anyway.

Then there was what was ostensibly his personal phone, which Shiro had forced on him so that they could call or text each other, the hope being that Keith would keep this one charged. The personal phone was currently in Keith’s office, defeating the purpose of its existence.

It wasn't only that Keith hated using the phone, it was that he never thought about it either.

His phone finally lit up, then released a series of buzzes and chimes at all the missed messages.

“I _know_ ,” Keith hissed, thumbing in his password.

There were messages from three unknown numbers on his phone. He could tell from the preview that one of them was a much longer thread. He opened the shorter ones first.

(01/27)  
(8:30 AM) Hi it’s Pidge I’m not feeling good and can’t come in today. If you need anything you can call me at this number but Lance should know where to find any off the documentation you need. I should be fine by Monday, see you then!  
(8:30 AM) of*

(01/29)  
(11:10 AM) heeeeey Keith, this is Hunk! Can you make it to the potluck shindig I’m planning for the end of the patent work? It’s the evening of Feb 3rd. Alsoooo if you’re bringing someone along, tell me, the more the merrier! :D

Keith keyed Hunk and Pidge in as new contacts. He didn’t put in new contacts often, so it took him a while to figure it out. He was maybe putting off opening Lance’s texts.

He stared at the third thread for a while, took a masochistic pleasure in how shitty he felt. Then he thumbed it open, scrolled to the top.

(01/20)  
(8:55 AM) Hi Keith, this is Lance, I’m running late because of the snow, I’ve messaged Pidge too. I should be there within an hour.  
(8:32 PM) hey, thanks for the ride home btw ;)

(01/21)  
(1:27 PM) are you freeeeee today ;) :) :)  
(1:29 PM) I didn’t get much done last night after you left after all…. :’(  
(1:29 PM) Coran was really nice about it…. feel like i’m taking advantage of his niceness though  
(1:30 PM) Hope you  
(1:30 PM) SORRY HIT SEND TOO SOON  
(1:34 PM) haha ok this is awkward um i hope you have a good day!!

(01/22)  
(11:11 AM) Hi!

(01/23)  
(3:42 PM) hey, how are you?  
(3:47 PM) I’m guessing you didn’t see my messages...?  
(7:32 PM) or not…

(01/26)  
(4:24 PM) dude.

(01/27)  
(1:09 PM) HEY, SO, IF WE CAN JUST IGNORE ALL THE TEXTS I’VE SENT YOU SO FAR THAT WOULD BE COOL, THX  
(1:09 PM) seriously though, you’re gonna turn your phone on eventually and i don’t want you seeing this shit ignore it all god im embarrassed  
(1:10 PM) also ????? isn’t this your work phone? use your work phone, keith, haha

Keith let out a big breath. He lay back on the couch and stared up at his ceiling. This explained, partly at least, why it sometimes felt like they were on the same page but reading from different books.

Then he pulled up his calendar app and tried to figure out what days Lance had sent the texts. The one that bugged him the most was the 21st. What had he even done that Saturday? Nothing. He could have been spending it with Lance.

Actually, the ones that bothered him the most were the ones that seemed sad to him. He didn’t want to make Lance sad.

Keith checked the time. It was too early in the morning to be bothering anyone yet, especially someone who was pissed off at him.

He went for a run to clear his mind.

*

When Keith got back he called Shiro on his freshly charged phone.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro said. “Is this your work phone? That’s unusual.”

“Hey,” Keith said. He paced across his living room.

There was silence on the line.

“You’re going to have to do more than breathe over the phone, buddy,” Shiro said, sounding amused. At Keith’s grunt, he said, “You left early last night, is this about that?”

“Uh, kind of, yeah.”

“Is it…” Shiro trailed off, making guessing sounds, “about Lance?”

Keith sputtered. He stopped pacing. “How did you know?”

“Really?” Shiro asked. “How did I know? You couldn’t look away from him last night.”

“That can’t be true,” Keith mumbled.

“He left early, too,” Shiro said, as if he were making a casual observation. Maybe he was. “His flan was good. He seems like a good kid, you should ask him out.”

Keith thought he might die. “About that,” he said. “Might have fucked up.”

“Huh, yeah?”

“Uh,” Keith said, extending the sound. “We-- wait, should I be telling you this? Isn’t there some kind of workplace protocol, or…”

“Oh,” Shiro said. “Well, it’s a Saturday, this is a strictly non-business call.”

“I mean,” Keith said, feeling his face heat up, “I mean, also, that some of the stuff I say might have… We were working together…”

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro said. His voice sounded pained. “Not during the patent work?”

“Fuck,” Keith said, feeling a fresh wave of horror come over him. He sat down on his couch. “Yeah, during the patent work.”

There was a very long pause.

“Well,” Shiro said, carefully, “you’re not the first, I’m sure others have survived. How about you explain it all to me and we’ll figure it out?”

“We, uh, hooked up,” Keith said, haltingly, “a few times. Three times. I mean, we also hung out last Saturday.” He took a deep breath, remembering. He decided not to mention how much he’d spent on Lance. “It was really nice. And I thought we’d figure it out eventually, but Lance thought I only wanted…” Keith didn’t finish the sentence because it was too embarrassing to say out loud. “And he got upset about that last night. Well, about other things too, but, um, he’d messaged me on my phone, but I had it turned off, so I only saw them today.”

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro said again. “You really like him, huh?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, miserable.

Shiro huffed out a laugh. It sounded fond. Keith was in no mood for it. “If he got upset about it being only physical, then it sounds like you could fix this,” Shiro said. “And if you fix this,” he added lightly, “then hopefully we won’t get bit in the ass by the ethics of this.”

For the first time, Keith felt like crying. “But I don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to him,” Shiro said.

Like it was so simple. Of course it was simple for someone who was good at talking.

“I don’t know what to _say_ ,” Keith said, panic obvious in his voice.

Shiro sighed. “Say what you feel. That can’t hurt, can it?”

“No,” Keith agreed, reluctantly. What Keith wanted was the secret password that would fix everything, not to lay himself completely bare.

They talked some more, about other things, but Keith’s focus was elsewhere. When the conversation ended, Keith held onto his phone and typed out a message to Lance.

(10:34 AM) Can we talk?

Keith was resigned to waiting, but his phone let out a chime not four minutes later.

(10:38 AM) ok

Keith stared at the two little letters, dumbstruck. Then he jolted up like he’d found the meaning of his life in those pixels, rushed through a post-run shower, ran to his car, and hit the gas.

*

Keith remembered how to get to Lance’s apartment building, but could not remember what floor the actual apartment was on. Nor could he get in past the front door of the building. Thankfully he’d actually brought his phone with him. Keith realized this was probably normal behavior for other people, but he felt inordinately relieved for having remembered.

Text or call? A call would be more efficient, if more terrifying.

Lance picked up after two rings. “Keith?” he said. “You want to do this over the phone?”

“I’m outside,” Keith said.

“You’re-- holy shit, you are.”

Keith looked up at the apartment building and waved, though he had no idea which window he was supposed to be waving at.

“Keith,” Lance said, and now Keith could hear the exhaustion and exasperation in his voice. “I thought after I messaged you, you’d tell me a time and place or something. That we’d be meeting somewhere.”

“Oh,” Keith said. “Should I go?” he asked, even though every part of him was screaming to get this over with as soon as possible.

“No, of course not, I’m just constantly impressed by your choices,” Lance said. Sarcastic. “I’ll come down to let you in.”

Lance was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. The sweats were a bit short on him. Keith could see his ankles.

“Come in quickly,” Lance said, holding the door open, “cold as balls out here.”

Keith followed him up the stairs, in silence, like the last time he’d followed Lance up these stairs. Lance looked straight ahead, and Keith looked at his ankles.

At Lance’s door, Lance threw him an irritated look. Keith stepped back.

“Dump your coat wherever,” Lance said, walking from the entrance directly into his living room and flopping onto his couch. “Do you want something to drink?”

Keith stayed standing, his coat still on. “That’s okay,” he said. “You probably don’t want me to stay long.”

Lance scowled at him. “I never said that.”

“I mean,” Keith said, feeling on-the-spot, “I only meant, after everything, I wouldn’t think you’d want me to…” He let out a big sigh.

“How about,” Lance said, faux-sweetness, “you take off your coat, sit on the couch, and then we can talk.”

“Right.” Keith took off his coat and sat on the end of the couch opposite Lance. He kept his coat on his lap.

Lance looked at him. His eyes were wide and his mouth solemn. He had brought his feet up onto the couch, had clasped his hands around his knees.

Keith cleared his throat. “I should have been clearer with you,” he said. Lance glanced away, then looked back. He seemed resigned. “I really, really like you, Lance. I like spending time with you. I think you’re really… nice.”

Lance’s mouth was set in a hard line, his jaw obviously clenched. “Yeah, you like me spoiled,” he said. “I know.” He seemed flushed, with embarrassment.

Keith also felt embarrassed. He rubbed at his cheek. “I mean,” he started, his heart giving a painful clench, “I like that I can take care of you like that. I like that if you need or want anything, I could be the first person you ask. I want to be that person.” It was hard getting the words out, if only because they were so important. “I want to make you happy.” His voice cracked on ‘happy,’ and he brought a hand to his mouth in embarrassment.

Lance was gaping at him.

“ _What_ ,” Keith said, then wondered why he was being so antagonistic about it. This was why talking was a terrible solution for him.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Lance cried out, his eyes close to popping out, his hands raised like he was going to grab Keith with them.

“When?” Keith asked back. “When was I supposed to say this? When you were busy reassuring me you hadn’t told anyone about us?”

“I didn’t tell anyone because you never replied to my texts! I thought you made it pretty clear what you were feeling on _your_ end. Sorry,” he said, flinging his arms out and laying the sarcasm on thick, “if I didn’t want my friends to know I had feelings for the guy who only wanted me for sex! Sorry I didn’t want them to know I was even more pathetic than previously thought!”

Keith bristled. "Look," he hissed, and he pulled out his phone and pulled up the text from the 27th, pushing it into Lance’s face, “look, you clearly found out the reason why I never saw them, so why didn’t you tell me? In person,” he slapped the couch cushion for emphasis, “and not using the one method of communication I obviously wasn’t using?”

Lance stood up, fists clenched by his sides. “Absolutely _no one_ wants to be that person, Keith!” he shouted.

Keith wanted to scream. He threw his coat off his lap. “Excuse me,” he said, through gritted teeth, “can you show me your bathroom?”

Lance jerked a hand out behind him.

Keith closed the door behind him and screamed, punching himself on the thigh. Then he splashed cold water on his face, took several deep breaths. When the adrenaline rush from his anger calmed down, he stepped back out.

He could see Lance’s back. He was still standing in the same place, but he was looking down at something in front of him. Keith walked back toward the couch and saw Lance was clasping and unclasping his hands in front of his chest.

“No one,” Lance repeated softly, “wants to be that person.”

“What person?” Keith asked, the last of his anger and frustration falling apart at how sad Lance looked.

“Clingy,” Lance said. “Desperate for attention.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Obviously trying to make up for stuff I suck at.”

Keith thought for a moment, then took a risk. “Is this about your thesis?” he asked. At Lance’s silence, he added, “Hunk and Pidge told me they were worried.”

“What?” Lance said, jerking his head up. He blinked and looked away. “Jesus, I’m a mess.”

“You’re not--”

“I am,” Lance said. He sat himself back on the couch, his elbows on his knees. “It is and isn’t about my thesis. I,” he angled his head to the side, mouth twisting, “I was managing okay, and then I took the Holt job and it was too much work. And then I wasn’t handling it okay.” He shrugged. “That’s about it, I suck at time management and handling my stress, big surprise.”

Keith took a step toward him but said nothing. Lance continued.

“I couldn’t quit because I needed the job to pay for this place. And I couldn’t talk to Hunk about it, because the reason I need to pay more for this place is because he’d moved out, and I really like this place so I didn’t want to move out. And him moving in with Shay is obviously _fine_ , but if I’d told him, he would have felt bad about it. That would have been really shitty of me.

“And I didn’t want to talk to Pidge about it, because I didn’t want to disappoint them. They’re the one who hooked me up with the position, it would have been really ungrateful of me to punk out. But sometimes it felt like they were humoring me.” Lance dropped his head into his hands. “I look back on the work I did for the Holt project and I don’t see anything of value. I look back on what I did for my thesis during the same time, and it’s all useless. I’ve pretty much been wasting everyone’s time for a year.”

Keith knelt down in front of Lance, his knees on the floor. He clasped a hand around each of Lance’s wrists, loose enough that Lance could shake him off, and tugged Lance’s hands away. Lance let him, but his eyes were trained on the floor between them.

“Hey,” Keith said, as gently as he could. It came out rough. He latched onto the one thing he knew for certain. “Pidge would never sacrifice their work to humor a friend.”

Lance looked up at that. “I guess,” he said, but the doubt was obvious.

“Pidge wouldn’t have recommended you for the position if they thought you were going to drag everyone behind. And once you started working on the project, I doubt that if you really had been dragging everyone behind, that anyone on the team would have kept quiet about it.”

“I mean,” Lance mumbled, “I did have to have a talk with Matt about it once.”

“Doesn’t that prove my point?” Keith asked. “They would have let you go if they really didn’t want you.”

Lance looked Keith fully in the face for the first time that day. It was scary and exciting to see the hope in his eyes. It was a complete rush to have all his attention like this.

Keith realized he was still holding onto Lance’s wrists. He let go, as if burned.

Lance pulled back and coughed. It seemed like a weak attempt to distill the suddenly awkward atmosphere.

“I meant what I said before,” Keith said. He looked down. He could see Lance’s ankles. It was cute, how his sweatpants were too short.

“Yeah?” Lance said, his voice watery. “Even after all this?”

“Of course.”

They sat there, Lance on the couch, Keith on the floor in front of him. Keith felt strangely at peace. He’d said his bit, and some more. It was up to Lance what to do next.

“Do you want some flan?” Lance asked, finally.

“What?” Keith asked.

“Hunk dropped off some leftovers for me this morning.”

Keith blinked up at him. This had to be a good sign.

“He said you didn’t have any flan last night,” Lance said, frowning. “The flan that I made. The flan that everyone said was _amazing_ , Hunk told me.”

“I couldn’t really… after you left I felt really bad, I couldn’t eat.”

“Right,” Lance said, standing up, which made Keith scramble backwards. “I’ll make us some coffee and we’ll have flan.”

“Flan is a weird word,” Keith said, but he stood up, followed Lance to the kitchen counter, and looked forward to the rest of his day with far more hope than he’d woken up with.

***

Two Tuesdays later Keith got a text on his personal phone while he was working at his desk. It was from Lance.

(11:08 AM) GO STRAIGHT HOME TODAY AFTER WORK!!!

(11:09 AM) Okay but I want to take you out.

(11:09 AM) HONEY SWEET<3 BABY NO  
(11:09 AM) i mean yes BUT NO!  
(11:10 AM) FIRSTLY i have a reason i’m not telling u just go straight home and SECONDLY we are going to hunk’s we are going to be FOUR v v annoying happy couples on valentine's day together in his home so we don’t show the world our shame  
(11:11 AM) or we dont show the world their shame?!?! idk  
(11:12 AM) you can take me out tomorrow ;)

(11:13 AM) OK.

(11:13 AM) god i love it when u sweet talk me <3  
(11:13 AM) unffff tell me more

Keith flushed at the last two texts. He knew Lance was teasing, but it was still something he didn’t want to be thinking about in the office.

(11:14 AM) No.  
(11:17 AM) <3

*

Keith buzzed Lance up to his condo at around 5 o’clock that evening. It was one and a half hours before they were expected to be at Hunk’s.

There was a knock only a few minutes later, and he opened the door to a large bouquet of colorful flowers. Lance’s head popped out from behind them.

“These are for you!” he said, grinning wide.

Keith had never been given flowers before. He hadn’t ever even thought of wanting flowers. Now he thought this was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him. “Thank you,” he said, taking the bouquet from Lance.

Lance stepped into the condo and gave Keith a sweet kiss on the mouth. He stepped back and held up a bottle that must have been hidden behind the flowers. “Hair pomade,” he said, still grinning so wide. He hadn’t stopped smiling once. “Will you let me do your hair for you? You will be the handsomest person at the ball this evening.”

Keith rolled his eyes but laughed, “Of course.”

“I want everyone to be jealous of me,” Lance said, bustling toward Keith’s bathroom. “I guess no one at Hunk’s will care,” he called out, and emerged with a comb, “but if you let me do this tomorrow too…”

Keith was still clutching his flowers. He buried his face in them and laughed some more. “Anything you want, Lance. You know that.”

Lance gave him a much gentler smile. “Yeah, I do. C’mon.”

Lance had Keith sit on the toilet seat in the bathroom. He stood himself in front of Keith as he worked on Keith’s hair. Lance was wearing another one of the shirts Keith had bought him. He talked about his day, about the work he’d managed to do on his thesis now that it was his only focus.

Keith closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment, the feel of Lance’s hands in his hair.

“My car’s making weird sounds again,” Lance said, sighing. “I might have to get rid of it, I don’t really think constant repairs is feasible.”

Keith cracked an eye open. “Peggy?” he asked.

Lance’s hands stilled in Keith’s hair. Keith opened both his eyes.

“Keith,” Lance said, very seriously, “I have something important to tell you.”

“Okay?” His heartbeat picked up.

Lance leaned down until he was eye level. “I don’t actually call my car Peggy.”

Keith stared at him, uncomprehending. “But you do.”

Lance shook his head.

“What?” Keith cried out, standing up suddenly.

“It was a joke!” Lance squealed, laughing and running away from Keith. “You were so cute! You kept saying ‘Peggy,’ so earnestly, oh my god! I couldn’t help myself!”

Keith caught up with Lance in the living room and wrapped his arms around Lance’s middle, tried to lift him up. It was hard. Instead he managed to topple them both over. He sat on Lance’s stomach, purposefully did not support himself in any other way.

“Uncle, uncle,” Lance wheezed. Keith let up. “God, you give as good as my brother and sisters.”

“Do you have anything else to tell me?” Keith asked, scowling.

Lance gave him a charming smile, despite how red he was in the face from their tussle. He closed his eyes and brought his hands together in front of him, like he was praying. “Only that I’m very hashtag blessed.”

Keith leaned down and kissed him, as hard as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, babes <3  
> I know I’m not too hot at replying to comments, but if you’ve got a question about the fic I’ll try to answer it!


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